LI  1  &  1  KJTki  U     i-1  i  H  U     IOC 

^TUM  OF  LITERAJUli 

ILFREt) :  M :  HITCHCOCK 


RHETORIC 


AND 


THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 


BY 

ALFRED  M.  HITCHCOCK 

HARTFORD  PUBLIC  HIGH  SCHOOL 


NEW  YORK 
HENRY  HOLT  AND  COMPANY 


COPYRIOHT,   1913, 
BT 

HENRY  HOLT  ANX'  COMPANY 


PREFACE 

Views  in  regard  to  what  the  course  in  English  should  be 
are  changing  year  by  year,  an  encouraging  sign  of  growth. 
Three  fundamental  ideas  seem  to  be  winning  wide  ac- 
ceptance. They  are  as  follows:  First,  emphasis  during 
the  earlier  years  of  the  secondary  school  course  should  fall 
on  practice  in  expression  through  the  medium  of  simple, 
interesting,  carefully  graded  exercises,  with  rhetorical 
theory  well  in  the  background;  during  the  later  years  this 
practice  should  be  continued,  the  tasks  in  composition  less 
frequent  but  calling  for  longer,  maturer  effort,  and  some- 
thing of  rhetorical  theory  should  be  placed  before  the 
pupils.  Second,  the  course  in  hterature  during  the  earlier 
years  should  be  exceedingly  simple,  designed  to  break  up 
careless  reading  habits  and  lead  gradually  to  an  apprecia- 
tion of  better  things;  during  the  junior  and  senior  years 
the  study  of  literature  should  become  more  and  more 
systematic,  not  only  acquainting  the  pupil  with  a  few 
choice  masterpieces  but  fixing  in  his  mind  methods  of 
study,  supplying  him  with  the  vocabulary  necessary  for 
intelligent  discussion  of  books,  and  familiarizing  him  with 
the  greatest  names  in  English  literature,  so  that  after 
school  days  are  over  he  may  be  equipped  to  continue  his 
reading  along  profitable  lines  and  in  an  intelligent  way. 
Third,  as  the  course  progresses,  practice  in  composition 
and  practice  in  literary  criticism  should,  within  reasonable 
bounds,  be  correlated,  this  to  be  managed  in  part  through 
the  study  of  rhetoric. 

iii 

ivi69904 


iv  PREFACE 

This  volume,  designed  for  use  in  the  last  two  years  of 
the  secondary  school  course,  contains  such  textbook  matter 
as  I  think  is  needed  to  carry  out  these  three  ideas  in  an 
economical  way:  a  brief  review  of  rhetoric,  including  a 
little  vocabulary  of  terms  commonly  employed  in  talking 
about  books;  a  general  classification  and  discussion  of  the 
various  literary  forms — fiction,  drama,  essay,  etc. — to- 
gether with  suggestions  both  general  and  specific  concern- 
ing how  these  forms  may  be  studied;  a  summary  by  periods 
of  English  literature,  containing  what  I  think  is  the 
minimum  that  the  pupil  should  know  upon  graduation — 
such  information  as  an  intelligent  man  or  woman  surely 
ought  to  possess.  I  have  not  hesitated  to  include,  in 
revised  form,  some  matter  that  has  already  appeared  in 
an  earlier  manual;  but  the  exercises  and  questions,  which 
form  a  considerable  part  of  the  whole,  are  new — new  and 
yet  old,  for  little  has  gone  into  this  book  that  has  not  been 
tried  out  repeatedly  in  class  room.  Indeed  I  have  neither 
the  courage  nor  the  inclination  to  put  forth  in  textbook 
form  anything  experimental. 

This  volume  should  not  go  forth  without  some  acknowl- 
edgment of  indebtedness.  Many  authorities  were  con- 
sulted during  the  preparation  of  the  summary  of  English 
literature;  yet  the  nature  of  the  summary  is  such — merely 
a  statement  of  established  facts  and  accepted  estimates — 
that  seldom  has  it  seemed  necessary  to  refer  specifically 
to  sources  of  information  familiar  to  most  students.  I 
owe  much  to  fellow  teachers  who,  as  critics,  have  made 
many  helpful  suggestions;  and  I  am  especially  indebted 
to  Miss  Elizabeth  Peck,  who  has  shared  with  me  the  bur- 
den of  correcting  proof. 

A.  M.   H. 


CONTENTS 


PART  I 


RHETORIC 

CHAPTER 

I  The  study  of  rhetoric 

II  Purity 

III  Clearness 

IV  Force 
V  Beauty     . 

VI  Style 

VII  Narration 

VIII  Description 

IX  Exposition 

X  Argument 


page 

3 

6 

16 

37 

60 

69 

75 

83 

92 

105 


PART  II 


THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 


XI 

Reading 

127 

XII 

Literature  defined           .... 

136 

XIII 

Kinds  of  literature:  poetry  and  prose 

141 

XIV 

Varieties  of  prose            .... 

144 

XV 

Varieties  of  poetry 

150 

XVI 

The  study  of  prose  fiction 

157 

XVII 

The  study  of  drama         .... 

169 

XVIII 

The  study  of  essays        .... 

186 

XIX 

The  study  of  poetry       .... 

V 

194 

VI 


CONTENTS 


PART  III 


A  BRIEF  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

chapter  page 

Introductory 237 

XX  Old  English  or  anglo-saxon  period  (650-1066)     239 

XXI  NORMAN-ENGLISH  PERIOD   (1066-1340)              .            .      245 

XXII  Chaucer's  period  (1340-1400)            .         .         .251 

XXIII  Caxton's  period  (1400-1500)     .         .         .         .257 

XXIV  Pre-Elizabethan  period  (1500-1564)          .         .     261 
XXV  The  Elizabethan  period  (1564-1625)         .         .     266 

XXVI  The  Puritan  and  Cavalier  period  (1625-1660)     276 

XXVII  Restoration  period  (1660-1700)        .         .         .282 

XXVIII  Queen  Anne  period  (1700-1744)        .         .         .285 

XXIX  The  age  of  Johnson  (1744-1789)      .         .         .     290 

XXX  Wordsworth-Scott  era  (1789-1832)           .         .299 

XXXI  Victorian  era  (1832-1900)         .         ...         .308 


APPENDIX 


A  Rules  op  punctuation 

B  Figures  of  speech 

C  Versification     .... 

D  Themes  for  essays  and  orations 

E      A   SPECIMEN   BRIEF 

F     Questions  on  typical  masterpieces 
♦  George  Eliot's  Silas  Marner  . 

The  De  Coverley  Papers 
Macaulay's  Samuel  Johnson 
Scott's  Lady  of  the  Lake 
Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village 
Milton's  L' Allegro 
Milton's  II  Penseroso     . 
Shakespeare's  Macbeth 

Index      


PART  I 
RHETORIC 


CHAPTER  I 
THE  STUDY  OF  HHETORIC 

What  is  rhetoric?    Briefly,  it  is  the  oldest  and  greatest 

of  all  arts,  the  art  of  communicating  by  means  of  language. 

A  manual  which  points  out  the  qualities  to 
,        ,     .      ,    .  1        J        'xi.  •         Rhetoric    de- 

be  desired  m  oral  and  written  expression    o^  , 

and  offers  suggestions  in  regard  to  how 
these  qualities  may  be  gained  is  called  a  rhetoric.  Hun- 
dreds of  such  manuals  have  been  written.  The  earliest 
take  us  back  to  the  days  of  the  ancient  Greeks;  indeed 
the  term  rhetoric  is  derived  from  rhetor,  a  name  which 
the  Greeks  applied  to  the  professional  orator  and  likewise 
to  one  who  wrote  speeches  for  others  to  deliver. 

In  a  very  elementary  way  we  study  rhetoric  from  our 
cradle  days,  through  consciously  or  unconsciously  ob- 
serving how  those  about  us  make  their  words 
effective  and  patterning  our  own  speech  ,  Joi'^  ^ 
accordingly.  As  we  become  readers,  we 
note,  for  the  most  part  unwittingly,  the  ways  of  written 
expression  and  adopt  such  of  them  as  appeal  to  us.  By 
this  natural,  direct,  but  haphazard  method  many  have 
achieved  no  mean  degree  of  skill.  Shakespeare,  in  all 
probability,  never  studied  rhetoric  in  any  other  way;  he 
simply  observed  and  practiced  till  he  had  mastered  the 
art.  But  to  the  average  person  there  comes  a  time  when 
he  feels  the  need  of  a  friendly  guide  to  advise  him  what  to 
observe,  what  to  strive  after  and  what  to  avoid  when 
speaking  or  writing.  He  feels  the  need  of  a  little  theory  to 
steady  and  direct  him  in  his  efforts  to  improve  his  powers 
of  expression. 

3 


4  RHETORIC 

Rhetorics  are  designed  to  furnish  such  guidance.    Their 

service  is  a  Umited  one,  however,  for  of  course  no  amount 

of   faithful   textbook   study   ever   in   itself 

.  g     J     '        resulted  in  a  brilliant  conversationalist,  or  a 

novelist  like  Thackeray,   or   a  fascinating 

essayist  like  Lamb.    It  cannot  supply  natural  ability  or 

personal  charm,  nor  is  it  a  substitute  for  independent 

study  of  models  and  faithful  practice  long  continued.    It 

is  but  a  staff,  or  at  best  a  walking  companion,  not  a  coach- 

and-four. 

Though  but  a  staff,  it  is  one  not  to  be  thought  of 
lightly.  There  are  those,  it  is  true,  who  regard  rhetor- 
Rhetorical  ical  study  as  harmful,  feeling  that  it  checks 
study  and  spontaneity.    But  we  need  not  share  their 

spontaneity  fears.  Undoubtedly  it  does  in  some  cases 
produce  temporarily  an  element  of  uncomfortable  self- 
consciousness,  an  awkwardness  such  as  children  experi- 
ence when  their  parents  try  to  break  them  of  unfor- 
tunate ways  of  holding  knife  and  fork;  or  such  as  older 
people  feel  when,  after  a  year  or  two  of  self-instruction  in 
golf,  they  at  last  are  sensible  enough  to  take  a  few  lessons 
from  a  competent  teacher.  While  ridding  themselves  of 
bad  habits  and  acquiring  correct  form,  they  appear  to  be 
losing  the  little  skill  that  they  once  fancied  they  possessed. 
"No  great  author,"  states  Alfred  Hennequin  in  his  useful 
little  book  The  Art  of  Play  writing,  "was  ever  hurt  by  the 
study  of  the  principles  of  rhetoric,  and  no  small  author 
ever  achieved  success  without  such  study." 

The  study  of  any  art  calls  into  use  a  number  of  technical 

terms.    The  art  of  communication  by  means  of  language 

is  so  very  complex  that  its  technical  vocab- 

t-n    4.T    ulary  is  of  necessitv  large;  and  since  rhetoric 

pose  of  Part  I  ;  ^    .         ^        ,.  n     ^  ^         r 

has  been  an  object  of  careful  study  for  cen- 
turies, during  which  few  authorities  have  employed  pre- 


THE  STUDY  OF  RHETORIC  5 

cisely  the  same  set  of  terms,  not  a  little  confusion  has 
arisen.  Out  of  this  chaos  of  conflicting  terminology  have 
been  selected  five  important  words,  more  or  less  technical, 
for  careful  explanation:  purity,  clearness,  force,  beauty, 
style.  These  terms  will  serve  as  focus  points  for  a  very 
simple  survey  of  the  rhetorical  field,  undertaken  with  a 
two-fold  purpose  in  mind:  first,  the  ordinary  one  of  gaining 
better  powers  of  expression;  second,  the  less  commonly 
recognized  purpose  of  opening  the  way  for  a  more  intel- 
ligent enjoyment  of  great  masterpieces  of  rhetorical  art. 


CHAPTER  II 

PURITY 

What  is  meant  by  Purity?    It  is  but  another  name  for 
good  usage  or  correctness.    First  of  all,  it  has  to  do  with 

words  considered  singly.  It  sends  us  to  the 
The  dictionary    ■■.   , .  ,  ,  i    j.  j     i. 

. ,  dictionary,  where  we  learn  what  words  be- 

long to  the  language,  what  each  word  means, 
and  how  it  is  spelled  and  pronounced.  Employing  words 
not  in  the  language,  using  words  incorrectly  as  to  their 
meaning,  misspelling  and  mispronouncing  words,  all  are 
violations  of  purity.  So  too  is  the  use  of  terms  which, 
though  found  in  the  dictionary,  are  coarse,  or  for  any  good 
reason  are  not  employed  by  those  whom  we  look  up  to  as 
masters  of  English. 

Purity  is  concerned  not  only  with  words  considered 
singly  but  with  word  groups.     It  sends  us  to  our  text- 
book in  grammar.     All  grammatical  errors, 

^  whether  mistakes  in  forms    (the   changes, 

a  guide  .    T  r 

for    example,    made    to    indicate    number, 

gender,  case,  and  tense)  or  violations  of  what  are  known 

as  the  rules  of  syntax  (such  as  that  the  verb  agrees  with 

its  subject  in  person  and  number),  are  opposed  to  purity. 

Ability  to  use  pure  English  cannot  be  acquired,  however, 

through  studying  a  textbook  in  grammar  and  through 

Spoken  English  faithfully    consulting    a    dictionary.      For 

an  untrust-        every    language    has    its    idioms — words, 

worthy  guide     phrases,  and  even  entire  sentences,  employed 

in  peculiar  ways — which  foreigners  master   with   great 

difficulty.    In  a  country  like  ours,  where  many  national- 

6 


PURITY  7 

ities  are  represented,  sentences  often  may  be  heard  which, 
considered  individually,  are  good  English  and  correctly 
used  so  far  as  grammar  and  dictionary  are  concerned,  yet 
the  things  said  are  not  said  in  the  English  way;  the  lan- 
guage is  unidiomatic.  Faulty  speech  of  this  character 
falls  not  alone  from  the  lips  of  foreigners  imperfectly  ac- 
quainted with  our  language;  unfortunately  the  ignorant 
and  the  careless  even  of  American  birth  adopt  wrong 
expressions  frequently  heard,  and  fall  into  un-English 
ways  of  speech.  Moreover  in  so  large  a  country  it  is 
inevitable  that  localities  widely  separated  should  differ 
somewhat  in  speech.  Certain  words  and  phrases  com- 
monly heard  in  the  South  are  not  used  elsewhere.  New 
England  has  her  provincialisms;  so,  too,  has  the  West. 
Thus  it  happens  that  many  even  of  the  better  educated 
offend  against  purity  without  being  conscious  of  it,  through 
imitating  that  which  they  hear  and  suppose  to  be  correct. 
The  use  of  idioms  common  to  the  whole  language  is  to 
be  desired,  for  they  impart  a  distinct  flavor  or  individ- 
uality. But  the  use  of  expressions  which  belong  merely 
to  a  section  of  country  leads  to  confusion. 

Everyone,  then,  should  own  a  good  dictionary  and  use  it. 
Everyone,  popular  opinion  to  the  contrary  notwithstand- 
ing, should  own  a  good  textbook  in  grammar  Masterpieces 
and  master  it  from  cover  to  cover.  But  trustworthy 
there  is  no  third  corresponding  book  of  glides 
idioms,  no  authoritative  volume  adequately  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  scores  upon  scores  of  unidiomatic  or  provin- 
cial blemishes;  and  even  though  such  a  volume  were 
issued,  it  would  have  to  be  rewritten  yearly,  for  new 
blights  appear  day  by  day.  Fortunately,  however,  every- 
one has  access  to  good  books,  and  in  good  books  the  purest 
English  is  found.  If  we  would  learn  to  speak  and  write 
correctly,  if  we  wish  to  weed  from  our  speech  that  which 


8  RHETORIC 

is  undesirable,  we  shall  do  well  to  read  at  least  a  few 
masterpieces  over  and  over  again.  In  this  way  we  absorb, 
gradually  and  almost  unconsciously,  not  only  the  thought 
but  the  phrasing  of  thought,  and  learn  to  distinguish 
between  English  that  is  pure  and  English  that  is  cor- 
rupt. 

But  unfortunately  the  main  trouble  lies  in  the  fact  that, 

to  many,  purity  seems  of  little  consequence.    They  employ 

aint,    he   donH,    there   was   three,    etc.,    and 

of  self-resoect  ^P^^^^^^  ^^^^^  ^^^^  wi^^  slang,  as  if  it  were 
prudish  and  un-American  to  do  otherwise. 
Careful  speech  is,  it  must  be  admitted  with  shame,  becom- 
ing more  and  more  un-American,  as  one  soon  realizes  if  he 
visits  other  English-speaking  countries,  where  language 
is  used  with  far  greater  care.  Yet  there  still  remain  a 
commendable  number  who  respect  and  guard  the  national 
tongue  as  they  guard  national  institutions.  They  are  not 
prudes  but  a  self-respecting  aristocracy  who  look  upon 
purity  as  the  first  essential  in  oral  and  written  composi- 
tion. Even  those  who  are  most  careless  must  admit  that 
purity  is  the  foundation  upon  which  the  art  of  expres- 
sion rests. 

Here  is  a  little  vocabulary  of  terms  which  cluster  about 
the  idea  of  correctness  and  good  use: 

I  Pure,  chaste,  correct,  idiomatic, 
grammatical. 
II  Barbarous,  provincial,  colloquial, 
slangy,  archaic,  obsolete,  cor- 
rupt, vulgar. 

Most  of  these  words  are  familiar.  Barbarism  is  a 
general  term,  seldom  employed,  applied  to  all  errors  in 
the  use  of  words,  but  more  particularly  to  the  use  of 


PURITY 


9 


foreign  words  and  idioms.  A  provincialism  is  a  peculiarity 
of  speech  found  in  some  one  locality.  Colloquialisms  are 
forms  employed  in  daily  conversation  as  opposed  to  purer 
language  found  in  good  books.  A  word  is  archaic  if  it 
belongs  to  a  former  period  and  is  now  seldom  used,  obso- 
lete if  it  has  passed  entirely  out  of  use.  If  the  meaning 
of  any  other  term  is  not  apparent,  a  dictionary  should 
be  consulted.! 

EXERCISES* 

1  The  words  below  are  taken  mainly  from  a  booklet 
entitled  Better  Say,  issued  by  the  publishers  of  the  Standard 
Dictionary,  and  from  lists  found  in  The  Enlarged  Practice- 
Book.  Study  their  pronunciation,  consulting  a  dictionary 
when  necessary. 


acclimate 

amenable 

athletic 

chasm 

address 

American 

audience 

clique 

adult 

applicable 

auxiliary 

column 

adverse 

Arab 

bicycle 

condolence 

aeronaut 

architect 

biography 

creek 

aeroplane 

arraign 

bouquet 

cruel 

aged 

aspirant 

brethren 

culinary 

alias 

asthn:<i 

brusque 

daunt 

alternative 

athlete 

calf 

deficit 

despair 

elm 

finance 

hearth 

despicable 

eloquent 

foreigner 

height 

desultory 

envelop 

gape 

heinous 

dew 

explicable 

genuine 

helm 

discourse 

exquisite 

gondola 

herculean 

drama 

extol 

government 

history 

due 

fianc4 

grievous 

hoist 

duty 

figure 

grimace 

homage 

eleven 

finale 

harass 

hundred 

*  Some  of  the  exercises,  it  will  be  noted,  are  too  long  for  single  assign- 
ments. 


10 

RHETORIC 

hygiene 

Italian 

mischievous 

precedent 

hypotenuse 

joust 

mountainous 

predicament 

idea 

just 

nape 

presentiment 

incomparable 

lamentable 

national 

pretty 

inexplicable 

launch 

often 

produce 

inquiry 

laundress 

pageant 

professor 

interested 

literature 

poem 

rather 

intrigue 

maintenance 

poignant 

realization 

irreparable 

memory 

potato 

really 

recess 

sacrilege 

tedious 

vagary 

recluse 

salmon 

Tuesday 

vaudeville 

recognize 

salve 

tiny 

vehement 

resource 

status 

tremendous 

villain 

retail 

strength 

truth 

viscount 

rhythm 

student 

truths 

waft 

roily 

stupid 

tune 

wary 

route 

suave 

tutor 

yacht 

ruse 

swallow 

usually 

zoology 

2  Since  poor  spelling  is  frequently  due  to  faulty  pro- 
nunciation, make  a  spelling  test  of  the  words  found  in 
exercise  1. 

3  Incredible  as  it  may  appear,  the  following  words  are 
commonly  misspelled  by  high  school  pupils.  Why  not 
master  them  once  for  all?  It  will  profit  little  to  memorize 
blindly;  study  each  word  carefully  to  see  why  it  is  trouble- 
some.   Note  prefixes  and  suffixes. 


accidentally 

agreeable 

article 

balance 

account 

all  right 

artistically 

barbarous 

acknowledge 

already 

ascertain 

believe 

acquaint 

among 

audience 

benefit 

across 

anonymous 

author 

Britain 

adjacent 

apparatus 

autos, 

business 

affairs 

around 

awful 

chauffeur 

chestnutting 

creak 

dilapidated 

♦  , 

equipped 

clothes 

cries 

disappear 

etc. 

college 

definitely 

dreamt 

exaggeration 

coming 

description 

dries 

extraordinary 

comparatively 

despise 

drowned 

familiar 

condemning 

develop 

emerge 

fascinate 

control 

difference 

enemies 

fiery 

finally 

humorous 

interrupt 

led 

following 

imitate 

irritable 

lightning 

forehead 

immediately 

its 

lose 

gas 

immense 

judgment 

lovable 

goddess 

impel 

kindergarten 

magazine 

grease 

incidentally 

laboratory 

majestic 

height 

intelligible 

leaves 

meant 

miscellaneous 

obliging 

parliament 

probably 

mischievous 

obstacle 

pennant 

professor 

misspell 

occasionally 

planned 

salary 

mysterious 

occurred 

possess 

screech 

myth 

odor 

precedent 

secretary 

neither 

oneself 

preceding 

seems 

ninetieth 

opportunity 

privilege 

seize 

separate 

stationery 

tendency 

visible 

sergeant 

studying 

together 

waive 

siege 

successful 

tragedy 

wherever 

similar 

sulphur 

tries 

wholly 

slippery 

superb 

twelfth 

whose 

somersault 

surprise 

imtil 

wondrous 

speech 

syllable 

vertical 

writer 

4  Open  your  dictionary  at  random  and  explain  every 
mark  and  abbreviation  used  on  the  page  before  you. 

5  Prepare  talks  on  any  four  or  five  words  in  the  follow- 
ing list,  getting  all  your  information  from  an  unabridged 
dictionary.  Make  the  talks  as  exhaustive  as  possible, 
touching    upon    spelling,    syllabification,    pronunciation, 


12 


RHETORIC 


classification  as  parts  of  speech,  meanings,  derivation, 
synonyms  and  antonyms  if  given. 


precocious 

bicycle 

school 

aeroplane 

kodak 

lace 

curfew 

vacation 

courage 

disaster 

delinquent 

crafty 

naughty 

maudlin 

tennis 

pester 

anarchy 

base-ball 

monologue 

trout 

phaeton 

miniature 

insult 

ballot 

cinch 

abandon 

labyrinth 

herald 

minstrel 

yacht 

ponder 

primrose 

tantalize 

roly-poly 

remorse 

belfry 

bed1a,m 

umbrella 

brace 

carriage 

6  Write  a  composition,  perhaps  four  hundred  words 
long,  to  which  you  can  give  one  of  the  following  titles : 

What  the  dictionary  tells  How  to  use  a  dictionary 

Half  an  hour  with  the  dictionary 

7  Here  are  a  few  specimens  of  bad  English  such  as  is 
shamefully  common  even  among  high  school  graduates. 
If  you  find  among  them  expressions  you  sometimes  employ, 
determine  to  eliminate  them  absolutely  from  your  speech. 
You  can  ill  afford  to  go  through  life  bearing  the  marks  of 
illiteracy. 

1.  John  cannot  find  his  cap;  I  presume  he's  left  it  some  place. 

2.  Let's  go  somewheres  else. 

3.  He  said  he  was  to  a  party  the  night  before  and  so  neglected 
his  lessons. 

4.  I  want  you  to  stay  right  to  home. 

5.  The  fence  was  that  high  you  could  not  vault  it. 

6.  Some  one  must  of  told. 

7.  Let's  leave  the  dog  go. 

8.  He  relates  about  how  he  went  fishing. 

9.  One  of  the  girls  suggested  to  cut  the  line. 

10.  The  people  look  smaller  than  what  they  really  are. 

11.  No  sooner  had  he  spoke  when  the  audience  began  to  ap- 
plaud. * 

12.  The  following  have  been  elected  into  the  Glee  Club. 


PURITY  13 

13.  The  three  of  them  set  out  for  Boston. 

14.  Ten  miles,  did  you  say?    Is  that  all  the  farther  it  is? 

15.  She  was  determined  on  having  her  own  way. 

16.  Everything  I  tried  to  do  seemed  hke  it  was  my  hardest 
task. 

17.  I  took  the  car,  as  I  thought  I  would  enjoy  the  ride. 

18.  I  just  started  to  run  when  the  gong  sounded. 

19.  I  worked  all  morning  and  played  all  afternoon. 

20.  '^f  him  I  will  write  at  the  best  of  my  ability. 

21.  He  did  pretty  good  for  a  new  beginner. 

22.  He  went  to  the  woods  in  search  for  a  pole. 

23.  Henry  said  he  wished  he  brought  a  stove. 

24.  He  eludes  from  the  pohceman's  grasp  and  shpped  away. 

25.  I  know  a  remedy  equally  as  good. 

26.  She  attended  a  business  college,  but  she  did  not  take  a 
position  from  there. 

27.  When  one  is  at  the  theatre,  he  or  she  will  note  many  things 
of  interest. 

28.  How  do  I  feel?    Pretty  good,  thank  you. 

29.  He  walks  like  he  was  tired. 

30.  I  think  probably  it  might  have  been  father. 

31.  The  cause  of  much  evil  is  due  to  the  abandoned  writings 
of  men  of  wit. 

32.  I  am  fond  of  sports  and  football. 

33.  Soon  we  saw  three  boys  who  we  recognized  as  them. 

34.  I  do  not  know  who  the  picture  was  painted  by. 

35.  Soon  we  reached  a  place  where  there  was  fewer  trees. 

36.  Here  comes  four  or  five  girls. 

37.  It  was  all  one  could  do  to  keep  themselves  on  the  seat. 

38.  I  could  not  mal^e  head  or  tail  of  it. 

39.  I  left  undone  many  things  I  would  Uke  to  have  done. 

40.  If  it  wasn't  for  hurting  his  feelings,  I'd  do  it  gladly. 

41.  She  was  one  of  those  dreamy  sort  of  children. 

42.  Don't  the  red  light  look  pretty? 

43.  In  the  rear  of  the  house  is  barns. 

44.  There  was  from  ten  to  fifteen  courses. 

45.  This  accounts  for  Banquo  being  up  late. 

46.  If  one  has  ability,  they  should  use  their  talents. 

47.  Looking  off  to  the  west  is  the  ocean,  now  red  with  the 
sinking  sun. 


14  RHETORIC 

48.  She  was  well  built,  medium  height,  blue  eyes,  and  beauti- 
ful hair. 

49.  The  rest  of  the  ride  was  uneventful,  reaching  New  Orleans 
at  ten. 

50.  It  is  painful  to  hear  his  talk,  being  not  unlike  a  dry  sermon. 

51.  The  building  was  too  small,  so  a  right  and  left  wing  were 
added. 

52.  There  was  a  crowd  of  ragged  people  who,  whenever  they 
picked  up  a  book,  it  turned  into  a  garment. 

53.  On   entering  the  hall,   everything  was  decorated  with 
yellow  and  black. 

54.  The  last,  but  by  no  means  not  the  least,  was  Peter. 

55.  Macaulay's  style  of  writing  is  graphic. 

56.  As  a  general  rule  he  is  punctual. 

57.  If  I  had  have  known,  I  should  have  been  prepared. 

58.  I'd  as  leave  go  as  stay. 

59.  You  might  of  guessed. 

60.  He  said  you  was  absent. 

61.  I  would  of  thought  he  would  of  telephoned. 

62.  We  hadn't  ought  to  of  left  him  alone. 

63.  If  he  had  have  cared  to,  he  could  have  gone. 

64.  You  had  ought  to  of  seen  him! 

65.  Will  I  need  an  overcoat? 

66.  Let's  you  and  I  stay  behind. 

67.  He  learned  me  how  to  skate. 

68.  Have  either  of  the  boats  returned? 

69.  Each  of  the  men  were  told  what  to  do. 

70.  Everyone  must  look  out  for  hisself . 

71.  Whom  shall  I  say  called? 

72.  I  did  not  think  he  would  go  that  far. 

73.  What  hotel  does  he  stop  at? 

74.  I  can't  go  no  farther. 

75.  It  is  as  large,  if  not  larger,  than  the  others. 

76.  I  don't  care  which  boat  you  take,  for  they  are  both  alike. 

77.  I  reckon  he's  going  fishing. 

78.  John,  mother,  and  myself  made  up  the  party. 

79.  A  foul,  he  said,  is  when  the  ball  goes  to  the  right  of  the 
first  base  line  or  to  the  left  of  the  third  base  line. 

80.  This  is  good,  but  I  like  the  other  equally  as  well. 

81.  Wave  your  arms  like  I  do. 


PURITY  15 

82.  The  life  here  is  very  different  than  I  expected. 

83.  It  was  on  the  third  of  June  when  the  boat  was  launched. 

84.  I  got  the  book  off  Tom. 

85.  I  did  not  notice  him,  as  my  eyes  were  turned  aside. 

86.  We  had  no  wood  or  coal  with  which  to  build  a  fire. 

87.  He  took  the  glove  from  Henry  and  hid  it  on  him. 

88.  Aint  it  cold! 

89.  When  the  conjunctions  are  omitted,  a  comma  should  be 
placed  between  each  word. 

90.  The  furnace  fire  went  out  on  me. 


CHAPTER  III 

CLEARNESS 

Clearness  is  a  term  so  familiar  that  it  does  not  need 
defining;  nor  should  it  be  necessary  to  dwell  on  the  impor- 
tance  of  making  whatever  one  has  to  say 
easy  to  imderstand.  The  reminder  cannot 
come  too  often,  however,  that  to  convey  even  a  simple 
message  with  absolute  accuracy  is  such  a  difficult  matter 
that  seldom  do  we  succeed  in  saying  precisely  what  we 
mean. 

Clearness  depends  on  four  things :  first,  mastery  of  sub- 
ject;  second,  ability  to  plan;  third,  skill  in  the  selection 
of  words  and  the  construction  of  sentences 
and  paragraphs;  fourth,  skill  in  the  employ- 
ment of  a  few  simple  devices. 

That  mastery  of  subject  is  essential  is  quite  evident; 

for  of  course  one  cannot  give  what  he  does  not  possess, 

cannot  impart  to  others  that  which  he  him- 

f !  ct^  °         s^^^  ^^^^  ^o^  know  perfectly.    We  may  have 

found  through  unpleasant  experience  that  a 

half-mastered  proposition  in  geometry  leads  to  a  hazy 

demonstration;  or  that  it  is  safer  to  trust  to  compass, 

when  traversing  a  strange  country,  than  to  follow  the 

directions  of  a  guide  who  is  not  quite  sure  of  the  trail.    On 

the  other  hand,  one  would  be  right  in  concluding  that  the 

remarkable   clearness   of   Macaulay's   essay   on   Samuel 

Johnson  is  due  in  large  measure  to  the  fact  that  Macaulay 

was  at  home  in  the  London  of  Johnson's  day  almost  as 

truly  as  in  the  London  of  his  own  century.    He  knew  his 

16 


CLEARNESS  17 

field.  With  equal  certainty  we  may  attribute  the  obscurity 
in  the  typical  school  composition  to  the  fact  that  the 
young,  too  commonly  unwilling  to  write  on  simple,  homely 
topics  growing  out  of  their  familiar  experience,  select 
subjects  lying  beyond  the  range  of  their  intimate  knowl- 
edge. Moreover  it  is  difficult  to  realize  that  one  may  be 
deeply  interested  in  certain  things  and  have  a  grasp  of 
them  sufficient  for  most  purposes,  without  knowing  them 
well  enough  to  impart  his  knowledge  to  others. 

Mastery  of  subject,  though  of  first  importance,  does  not 
bring  us  quite  to  the  threshold  of  expression;  for  before  the 
message  is  entrusted  to  words,  whether  it  be 
through  song  or  story  or  plain  statement  of  ^^^^.^ 
fact,  there  must  be  careful  planning.  The 
writer  when  about  to  compose  is  like  a  traveler  preparing 
for  a  journey.  The  traveler  must  decide  where  to  go  and 
how  to  make  the  journey,  how  long  to  stay  in  this  place, 
how  long  in  that,  and  what  he  would  best  try  to  see  and  do, 
that  the  purpose  for  which  the  journey  is  taken  may  be  ac- 
complished. Or  we  may  compare  the  writer  to  a  builder 
who,  before  setting  his  laborers  at  work,  decides  what  man- 
ner of  structure  he  will  erect,  how  large  it  shall  be,  how  con- 
structed, how  divided  into  rooms  and  what  shall  be  the 
plan  of  each  room,  that  all  may  serve  the  purpose  for  which 
the  structure  is  intended.  That  is  to  say,  the  trained 
writer,  before  penning  a  sentence,  w^ill  have  his  entire 
message  pretty  well  mapped  out  in  his  mind,  its  ending 
as  well  as  its  beginning,  and  the  intervening  parts  all  in 
their  proper  sequence  and  proportion — mapped  out  so 
clearly  that  when  he  has  written,  the  reader  will  readily 
see  that  the  composition  follows  a  definite  route  or  plan 
or  pattern.  If  the  character  of  the  subject  is  such  that 
the  plan  followed  is  necessarily  complicated,  the  writer 
may  find  it  necessary  to  outline  it  in  an  introductory  sen- 


18  RHETORIC 

tence  or  two,  and  perhaps  refer  to  it  now  and  then  as  the 
composition  proceeds.  It  even  may  be  necessary,  when 
the  composition  proper  is  completed,  to  summarize  all 
that  has  been  said,  in  this  way  again  presenting  an  outline 
of  the  whole. 

A  more  technical  way  of  stating  the  substance  of  the 
preceding  paragraph  would  be  to  say  that  every  composi- 
tion should  be  planned  with  the  principles 
Unity,  mass,         r         -j.  j        i,  •  •    j 

,  "^  01    unity,    mass,    and    coherence   m   mmd. 

coherence  .     , 

Coherence  is  but  another  name  for  proper 

arrangement  or  sequence.  Mass  is  but  another  name  for 
emphasis  properly  placed.  Unity,  a  term  difficult  to 
define,  demands  that  the  composition  conform  to  some 
design  or  pattern  or  plan.  The  idea  of  unity  really  includes 
the  idea  of  mass  and  coherence;  for  a  composition  the 
parts  of  which  are  out  of  their  proper  places,  or  out  of 
proportion  through  careless  massing,  cannot  be  the  product 
of  a  perfectly  conceived,  unified  plan. 

Ability  to  conceive  plans — to  inventory  the  material 
available,  select  what  is  needed  for  the  purpose  at  hand, 
and  hit  upon  the  most  effective  way  of 
,     J  presenting  the  material  selected,  is  exceed- 

ingly rare;  and  rarer  still  is  the  ability,  a 
plan  having  been  decided  on,  to  hold  this  plan  in  mind 
while  composing.  It  is  so  likely  to  slip  away  at  an  un- 
guarded moment,  other  plans  intruding.  We  forget 
momentarily  the  goal  towards  which  we  are  striving;  we 
hurry  over  important  matters  or  dwell  too  long  on  the 
unimportant,  with  the  result  that  the  finished  product 
is  incoherent,  poorly  proportioned,  un-uni- 

cult'  ated  ^^^*    ^^^^^^^  ^^  invent  plans  and  to  hold 

them  in  mind,  though  rare,  can  be  cultivated 

through  constant  practice  in  making  topical  outlines  on 

paper,  the  same  matter  being  outlined  in  several  different 


CLEARNESS  19 

ways  with  a  view  to  discovering  which  is  best,  and  through 
brief  oral  compositions  given  without  notes.  The  making 
of  topical  analyses  of  well  constructed  masterpieces  is  also 
helpful,  especially  if  it  be  done  carefully  and  with  a  view 
to  discovering  how  closely  the  principles  of  unity,  mass, 
and  coherence  are  followed  by  skilled  writers. 

This  brings  us  to  the  third  source  of  clearness:  care  in 
selecting  words  and  in  constructing  sentences  and  par- 
agraphs. 

First  of  all,  clearness  calls  for  purity.     A  word  mis- 
pronounced or  misspelled  may  be  understood,  yet  there 
is  always  the  possibility  that  it  may  not  be;    Clearness 
a  word  misused  as  to  its  meaning  is  like  a    through 
guideboard  so  askew  that  the  traveler  may    verbal  purity 
miss  his  way.    Second,  clearness  calls  for  familiar  words. 
Peregrinations  is  a  good  term,  found  in  the    Through 
dictionary;  but  travels  is  a  safer  one  to  em-    familiar 
ploy,    since   everyone   knows   its   meaning,    words 
Third,    clearness   calls   for   precise   words — terms   which 
neatly  fit  the  meaning  intended.    The  care- 
less too  often  employ  whatever  comes  first         °  ^        , 

.       .  .   ,  .  precise  words 

to  mind;  skilled  writers  weigh  words,  reject- 
ing many,  it  may  be,  before  hitting  upon  the  ones  precisely 
serving  their  purpose.  They  take  advantage  of  the  fact 
that  our  language,  above  all  others,  is  rich  in  synonyms — 
word-groups  the  members  of  which  convey  nearly,  and 
yet  not  quite,  the  same  meaning,  the  shades  of  difference 
making  it  possible  to  express  with  nicety  the  meaning 
intended. 

If  we  pass  now  from  single  words  to  sentences,  it  may  be 

said  again  that  clearness  calls  for  purity.    An 

,.     ,  ,  •      Ti  -1  Grammatical 

ungrammatical  sentence  is  like  a  window    ^^-^^ 

the  panes  of  which  are  so  far  from  clean  or 

so  marred  by  imperfections  that  they  obscure  the  view 


20  RHETORIC 

and  at  the  same  time  distract  attention.    Not  only  should 

each    sentence    be    strictly    grammatical, 

.      but   so   carefully   constructed  that   phrase 
arrangement  *^.  •      i         , 

follows   phrase   m   easily   perceived   order, 

with  no  gaps  to  bridge,  no  unnecessary  words  obstructing 

the  way.     Modifiers  should  be  so  placed  that  it  will  be 

easy  to  see  what  they  modify;  pronouns  should  have 

clearly   defined   antecedents.     Punctuation 

marks  should  be  employed  with  great  care, 

for  they  are  the  most  useful  of  all  guides,  except  perhaps 

that  little  group  of  introductory  and  transitional  words 

which  make  the  neat,  smooth  joints  between  ideas — joints 

that  characterize  skilled  sentence  carpentry. 

A  sentence  is  but  a  little  composition,  and  as  such  obeys 

the  principles  of  unitj^,  coherence,  and  mass;  and  so  too 

does  the  paragraph,  which  is  but  a  collection 

^\  ^' ,  of    sentences    bound    together    coherently 

and  coherence  °        .    .  *^ 

through  unity  of  purpose.  It  is  in  the  para- 
graph that  we  see  most  clearly  the  effectiveness  of  intro- 
ductory words  and  phrases  which  lead  from  sentence  to 
sentence.  In  the  paragraph,  perhaps  more  clearly  than  in 
whole  compositions,  do  we  note  the  advantage  of  careful 
structure.  There  are  many  moulds  in  which  paragraphs 
may  be  cast;  but  for  clearness  the  best  plan,  perhaps,  is 
that  which  calls  for  a  first  sentence  that  is  topical,  plainly 
announcing  what  the  paragraph  is  about  and  suggesting 
the  sequence  to  be  followed. 

Of  the  many  special  devices  to  which  one  may  resort 
in  an  effort  to  gain  clearness,  the  four  we  shall  consider 
Special  de-  are  so  simple  that  they  are  employed  almost 
vices:  restate-  instinctively  even  by  children.  The  first 
^^^i  is  mere  restatement,  or  expressing  the  same 

idea  in  slightly  different  words.    Those  who  employ  this 
device  recognize  that  what  is  perfectly  clear  to  the  writer 


CLEARNESS  21 

may  not  prove  clear  to  the  reader;  and  since  the  reader  is 
not  present  to  say  /  do  not  understand,  it  is  safer  to  employ 
restatement  freely,  assuming  that  some  one  of  several 
ways  of  putting  a  thing  will  be  understood.  This  device 
is  especially  helpful  where  the  message  is  intended  not 
for  any  one  reader  but  for  many,  and  where,  accordingly, 
the  chances  of  being  misunderstood  are  greater. 

Quite  as  simple  is  a  second  device,  the  multiplying  of 
particulars.     Young  writers  are  given  to  making  state- 
ments that  are  broad  and  too  general  to 
convey  clear  impressions.     We  are  having  a         ..    , 
fi7ie  time,  the  boy  writes  home  from  his  camp 
in  the  woods;  but  unless  this  general  statement  is  followed 
by  many  particulars,  his  letter  fails  to  convey  what  he 
intends.    For  a  fine  time  may  mean  one  thing  to  the  boy 
and  quite  a  different  thing  to  his  mother.    In  other  words, 
we  sometimes  fail  to  furnish  the  reader's  imagination  suffi- 
cient material  out  of  which  to  build;  consequently  there 
arises  in  the  reader's  mind  something  quite  unlike  that 
which  was   intended,   or   it   may   be   that   the   reader's 
mind  will  refuse  altogether  to  build,  and  the  words  are 
wasted. 

A  third  way  of  gaining  clearness  is  by  means  of  ex- 
amples, a  device  particularly  helpful  in  exposition  and 
argument.  Here,  for  instance,  is  a  praise- 
worthy  essay  in  which  a  school  girl  considers 
what  studies  have  proved  most  helpful  to  her.  In  an 
early  paragraph  the  general  statement  is  made  that  Latin 
has  proved  a  great  aid  to  her  in  getting  all  her  other  lessons. 
But  this  general  statement  is  not  left  unsupported;  it  is 
followed  by  example  after  example  showing  how  Latin 
has  helped  her  in  the  study  of  French  and  English  and  the 
sciences.  The  illustrations  were  needed  for  perfect  clear- 
ness. 


22  RHETORIC 

The  devices  mentioned  in  the  two  preceding  paragraphs 

are  essentially  the  same,  and  very  closely  akin  is  the  fourth 

^  .  and  last  that  we  shall  consider — the  employ- 

Comparisons  ,       r  •  i  •  i  i 

ment    of    comparisons    which    reveal    now 

points    of    similarity,    now    points    of    dissimilarity    or 

contrast.     This  unfamiliar  thing  which  I  am  trying  to 

make  clear  to  you,  the  writer  says  in  substance,  is  in 

at  least  one  respect  like  this  other  thing  with  vjhich  you 

are  perfectly  familiar.     Or,  employing  contrast,  he  may 

say.  This  with  which  you  are  unfamiliar  is  the  opposite  of 

this  other  thing  with  which  you  are  so  familiar.     Thus  by 

comparing  the  unknown  to  the  known,  correct  images 

are  made  to  rise  in  the  reader's  mind. 

The  substance  of  the  preceding  paragraphs  may  be 
summarized  as  follows:  Clearness  is  gained  in  four  ways: 
first,  through  complete  mastery  of  the  sub- 
ject at  hand;  second,  through  planning  the 
message  so  carefully  that  the  reader  will  readily  see 
it  as  a  whole  made  up  of  parts,  will  readily  perceive 
the  relation  of  part  to  part,  and  will  notice  the  impor- 
tant features  standing  out  in  high  relief;  third,  through 
choosing  words  that  are  pure,  familiar,  precise,  and 
through  care  in  constructing  sentences  and  paragraphs  in 
accordance  with  the  principles  of  unity,  mass,  and  coher- 
ence; fourth,  through  the  familiar  devices  of  restatement, 
of  multiplying  details,  of  illustrating  by  means  of  exam- 
ples, and  of  employing  comparisons  which  establish  points 
of  similarity  or  contrast. 

The  adjective  clear  is  the  center  of  a  large  group  of  re- 
lated words  commonly  employed  in  criticism.    The  more 
familiar  of  these  are  found  in  the  following  groups: 
I  Clear,  lucid,  plain,  photographic. 
II  Simple,  precise,  exact,  explicit, 
detailed. 


CLEARNESS  23 

III  Orderly,  methodical,  systematic, 

connected,  coherent,  complete. 

IV  Vague,  ambiguous,  turbid,  misty, 

muddy. 
V  Incoherent,  disjointed,  confused. 
VI  Abstruse,  intricate,  compUcated. 

EXERCISES 

1  *  Punctuate  the  following,  supplying  capitals  where 
they  are  needed: 

1.  The  white  people  have  no  right  to  take  the  land  from  the 
Indians  because  they  had  it  first  it  is  theirs. 

2.  I  had  three  chairs  in  my  house  one  for  soHtude  two  for 
friendship  three  for  society. 

3.  The  old  word  roly-poly  has  acquired  in  the  course  of  its 
history  the  following  meanings  a  rascal  a  game  a  dance  a 
pudding  and  finally  a  plump  infant. 

4.  Every  time  a  new  word  is  added  to  the  language  either  by 
borrowing  composition  or  derivation  it  is  due  of  course  to  the 
action  conscious  or  unconscious  of  some  one  person. 

5.  In  later  years  my  mother  looking  at  me  almost  reproach- 
fully would  sometimes  say  oh  you  were  such  a  pretty  boy  whence 
I  had  no  difficulty  in  concluding  that  I  had  not  fulfilled  my  early 
promise  in  the  matter  of  looks. 

6.  What  do  you  want  sir  said  the  old  gentleman  crossly  I  want 
fire  and  shelter  and  theres  your  great  fire  blazing  crackling  and 
dancing  on  the  walls  with  nobody  to  feel  it  let  me  in  I  say  I  only 
want  to  warm  myself. 

7.  I  did  not  read  books  the  first  summer  I  hoed  beans. 

8.  Justice  as  exhibited  by  the  course  of  things  in  general  arose 
out  of  the  fact  that  I  the  victor  had  a  black  eye  while  he  the  van- 
quished had  none  so  that  I  got  into  disgrace  and  he  did  not. 

9.  To  speak  critically  I  never  received  more  than  one  or  two 
letters  in  my  Hfe  I  wrote  this  some  years  ago  that  were  worth 
the  postage. 

10.  In  Shakespeares  plays  partly  owing  to  their  immense 

*  Kules  for  punctuation  will  be  found  in  the  Appendix. 


24  RHETORIC 

popularity  but  quite  as  much  to  his  unequalled  sense  for  language 
more  new  words  are  found  than  in  almost  all  the  rest  of  the  Eng- 
lish poets  put  together  for  not  only  is  our  speech  full  of  phrases 
from  his  plays  but  a  very  large  number  of  our  most  expressive 
words  are  first  found  in  them. 

11.  When  public  bodies  are  to  be  addressed  on  momentous 
occasions  declares  Webster  when  great  interests  are  at  stake  and 
strong  passions  excited  nothing  is  valuable  in  speech  further  than 
it  is  connected  with  high  intelligence  and  moral  endowment 
clearness  force  and  earnestness  are  the  qualities  which  produce 
conviction  true  eloquence  indeed  does  not  consist  in  speech  it 
cannot  be  brought  from  afar  labor  and  learning  may  toil  for  it 
but  they  will  toil  in  vain  words  and  phrases  may  be  marshalled 
in  every  way,  but  they  cannot  compass  it  it  must  exist  in  the 
man  in  the  subject  in  the  occasion. 

12.  This  means  of  word  making  through  onomatq)oeia  is 
illustrated  by  the  old  story  of  the  foreigner  in  China  who  sitting 
down  to  a  covered  dish  inquired  quack-quack  and  was  promptly 
answered  bow-bow  from  his  Chinese  attendant. 

13.  I  came  to  this  city  said  the  speaker  to  see  him  and  laying 
his  hand  upon  Irvings  shoulder  here  he  sits. 

14.  In  an  old  house  dismal  dark  and  dusty  lived  a  miser 
meager  old  chairs  and  tables  of  spare  and  bony  make  were  ar- 
ranged in  grim  array  against  the  gloomy  walls  presses  grown 
lank  in  guarding  the  treasures  they  enclose  and  tottering  as 
though  from  constant  fear  and  dread  of  thieves  shrunk  up  in 
dark  corners  a  tall  grim  clock  with  long  lean  hands  and  famished 
face  ticked  in  cautious  whispers  and  when  it  struck  the  time  it 
rattled  as  if  it  were  pinched  with  hunger. 

15.  There  is  in  this  city  a  gentleman  who  at  the  reception  of 
one  of  my  books  I  well  remember  it  was  Old  Curiosity  Shop 
wrote  to  me  in  England  a  letter  so  generous  so  affectionate  and 
so  manly  that  if  I  had  written  the  book  under  every  circumstance 
of  disappointment  of  discouragement  and  difficulty  instead  of 
the  reverse  I  should  have  found  in  the  receipt  of  that  letter  my 
best  and  most  happy  reward. 

16.  Two  things  preoccupied  him  as  he  went  the  aspect  of  the 
gallows  at  Mont  Faucon  in  the  bright  windy  phase  of  the  night's 
existence  for  one  and  for  another  the  look  of  the  dead  man  with 
his  bald  head  and  garland  of  red  curls. 


CLEARNESS  25 

17.  The  congregation  was  composed  of  the  neighboring  people 
of  rank  who  sat  in  pews  sumptuously  lined  and  cushioned  fur- 
nished with  richly  gilded  prayer  books  and  decorated  with  their 
arms  upon  the  pew  doors  of  the  villagers  and  peasantry  who 
filled  the  back  seats  and  a  small  gallery  beside  the  organ  and 
of  the  poor  of  the  parish  who  were  ranged  on  benches  in  the 
aisles. 

2  To  test  further  your  understanding  of  the  rules,  jus- 
tify the  punctuation  in  the  specimen  paragraphs  found 
in  the  fourteenth  exercise.  No  doubt  you  will  in  some 
cases  think,  and  with  good  reason,  that  the  punctuation 
is  incorrect. 

3  Crabb's  English  Synonyms  or  some  similar  compila- 
tion is  a  great  aid  to  one  who  wishes  to  express  himself 
with  clearness  and  precision.  If,  for  example,  we  think  of 
employing  the  word  sarcasm  but  are  not  sure  that  the  term 
conveys  the  desired  meaning,  we  may  turn  to  Crabb,  who 
tells  us  first  that  the  word  is  associated  with  three  others — 
ridicule,  satire,  irony.  Ridicule,  he  explains,  has  simple 
laughter  in  it  and  is  employed  in  matters  of  a  trifling 
nature;  satire  has  a  mixture  of  ill-nature  or  severity  and  is 
employed  either  in  personal  or  grave  matters;  irony  is 
disguised  satire,  the  ironist  seeming  to  praise  that  which 
he  really  means  to  condemn;  sarcasm  is  biting  or.  nipping 
satire.  All  save  the  last,  he  says  by  way  of  final  definition, 
may  be  successfully  and  properly  employed  to  expose 
folly  and  vice;  but  sarcasm,  which  is  the  indulgence  of 
personal  resentment,  is  never  justifiable.  Even  without 
such  a  helpful  guide,  one  may  do  much  toward  training 
himself  to  distinguish  between  nice  shades  of  meaning. 
By  way  of  practice,  explain  how  each  sjmonym  in  the 
groups  which  follow  should  be  used.  Consult  the  dic^ 
tionary  when  necessary,  but  not  until  you  have  thought 
independently. 


26 


RHETORIC 


Good-nature,  good-humor 

Idle,  lazy,  indolent 

Stagger,  reel,  totter 

Gape,  stare,  gaze 

Noise,  cry,  outcry,  clamor 

Step,  stride,  glide,  stalk 

Daring,  bold,  brave,  fearless 

Drag,  draw,  haul,  pull,  pluck, 
tug 

Hollow,  empty 

Prelude,  preface,  introduction 

Custom,  habit 

Excel,  surpass,  exceed,  trans- 
cend, outdo 

Endeavor,  aim,  strive,  struggle 

Turn,  bend,  twist,  distort, 
wring,  wrest,  wrench 

Overflow,  inundate,  deluge 

Hint,  suggest,  intimate,  insinu- 
ate, allude,  imply 

Flat,  level,  even,  smooth,  plain 

Hesitate,  falter,  stammer,  stut- 
ter 

Jealous,  envious,  suspicious 

Babble,  chatter,  chat,  prattle, 
prate 

Game,  sport,  play 

Excursion,  tour,  trip,  expedi- 
tion, ramble,  jaunt 


Error,  mistake,  blunder 

Bent,  curved,  crooked,  awry 

Shine,  ghtter,  glare,  sparkle, 
radiate 

Task,  work,  toil,  drudgery, 
labor 

Border,  edge,  rim,  brink,  mar- 
gin, verge 

Verbal,  vocal,  oral 

Suffocate,  stifle,  smother,  choke 

Demolish,  raze,  dismantle,  de- 
stroy, consume,  waste 

Band,  company,  crew,  gang, 
crowd 

Breeze,  gale,  blast,  gust,  storm, 
tempest,  hurricane,  tornado 

Distress,  anxiety,  anguish, 
agony 

Feast,  banquet,  carousal,  en- 
tertainment, treat 

Show,  play,  performance 

Beg,  beseech,  sohcit,  entreat, 
supphcate,  implore,  crave 

Address,  speech,  harangue, 
oration 

Commonly,  generally,  fre- 
quently, usually 

Rare,  scarce,  singular 


4  The  above  groups  contain  merely  such  sjrnonyms 
as  are  often  confused;  they  are  not  complete.  Add  syn- 
onyms to  each. 

5  Find  synonyms,  as  many  as  you  can,  for  each  of  the 
following  adjectives: 

strong                        youthful                 clever  sad 

big                              fragile                    bad  old 

saucy                         little                       careless  happy 

mj^sterious                 rustic                     pleasant  queer 


CLEARNESS  27 

6  Find  synonyms  for  the  following  verbs: 

push  tease  retard  hate 

irritate  answer  ask  help 

throw  blame  hit  lift 

sing  shake  tip  get 

7  Explain  the  shades  of  meaning  represented  by  the 
synonyms  found  in  performing  the  fifth  and  sixth 
tasks. 

8  An  antonym  is  the  opposite  of  a  synonym ;  •  that 
is,  a  word  directly  opposed  to  another  in  meaning.  In 
Fernald's  English  Synonyms  and  Antonyms  we  find  im- 
mediately under  generous^  for  example,  the  synonyms 
hountiful,  chivalrous,  disinterested,  free,  free-handed,  free- 
hearted, liberal,  magnanimous,  munificent,  noble,  open- 
handed,  open-hearted.  Following  an  explanation  of  these 
terms  comes  a  list  of  antonyms:  avaricious,  close,  covetous, 
greedy,  ignoble,  illiberal,  mean,  miserly,  niggardly,  parsi- 
monious, penurious,  petty,  rapacious,  stingy.  Find  as  many 
antonyms  as  you  can  for  each  of  the  following : 


honest 

justice 

large 

misfortur 

neat 

perfect 

plentiful 

polite 

rest 

tasteful 

veracity 

hide 

grief 

fierce 

eager 

beautiful 

9  Since  one  way  of  gaining  clearness  in  writing  compo- 
sitions is  through  adhering  closely  to  some  one  main  pur- 
pose, allied  wdth  which  may  be  two  or  three  subordinate 
purposes,  write  a  few  sentences  in  which  you  state  clearly 
what  you  would  wish  to  accomplish  if  you  were  dealing 
with  one  of  the  following  topics : 

High  school  athletics.  The  play  of  fashion  in  our  school. 
Courtesy  at  home  and  abroad.  The  school  building.  Why  go 
West?    School  spirit.    The  Spanish  Arm.ada. 


28  RHETORIC 

10  Let  the  members  of  the  class  unite  in  an  attempt 
to  discover  the  best  plan  for  building  an  essay  on  some 
appropriate  topic— perhaps  one  from  the  list  above,  the 
main  thing  to  be  kept  in  mind  being  the  desirability  of  so 
planning  that  the  completed  essay  will  have  a  sequence 
easy  for  the  reader  to  follow.  Each  member  having  made 
an  outline  independently,  let  a  few  of  the  better  outlines 
be  placed  on  the  blackboard,  that  the  class  as  a  whole  may 
determine  which  plan  is  best  and  how  it  may  be  improved. 
Whatever  topic  is  selected,  let  the  main  purpose  of  the 
essay  be  decided  before  the  outlines  are  made. 

11  Write  a  concluding  paragraph  summarizing  a  com- 
position which  you  may  imagine  you  have  written  on  one 
of  the  following  topics: 

The  uses  to  which  coal  is  put.  Advice  to  one  training  for 
track  athletics.  Why  one  should  take  an  active  part  in  politics. 
How  to  get  strong.    Hints  for  the  amateur  photographer.    How 

not  to  become  popular.    The  ideal  senior.    Why  I  prefer as 

a  place  of  residence.    Common  sense  in  wearing  apparel.    The 
advantages  and  the  disadvantages  of  the  telephone.     Why  I 

intend  to  be  an .    Why  I  admire .    Advice  to  a  young 

debater. 

12  Write  an  introductory  paragraph  designed  to  sketch 
in  advance  the  plan  you  would  adopt  in  dealing  with  one 
of  the  following  propositions: 

Suffrage  should  be  extended  to  women.  United  States  sen- 
ators should  be  elected  by  popular  vote.  The  maximum  speed 
of  ocean  liners  should  be  fixed  by  law.  Every  state  should  main- 
tain a  university.  All  railways  should  be  owned  by  the  govern- 
ment. There  should  be  a  United  States  law  forbidding  tips. 
The  South  offers  the  young  man  greater  opportunities  than  New 
England.  The  Tropics  will  become  the  vacation  ground  of  the 
future.  Every  secondary  school  should  maintain  a  dramatic 
club.    Conversational  ability  is  more  to  be  desired  than  orator- 


CLEARNESS  29 

ical  skill.    A  literary  club  offers  more  to  the  average  girl  than  a 
debating  club.    Slang  is  justifiable. 

13  Make  a  topical  outline  of  one  of  the  selections  the 
titles  of  which  are  found  in  the  list  given  below.  Here 
are  a  few  suggestions:  1.  Not  every  essay  is  built  on  the 
conventional  plan  of  Introduction,  Body  or  Discussion, 
Conclusion.  2.  Do  not  employ  too  many  main  topics  or 
headings.  By  taking  a  bird's-eye  view,  it  may  be  that  you 
will  find  that  the  facts  or  ideas  cluster  about  two  or  three 
points  only.  3.  Distinguish  carefully  between  main  and 
subordinate  topics,  placing  the  latter  below  and  a  httle 
to  the  right  of  the  former.  4.  Do  not  be  influenced  too 
much  by  paragraphing.  5.  Use  phrases  or  clauses,  rather 
than  complete  sentences,  for  topic  headings. 

The  Country  Church  {Sketch  Book),  Washington  Irving. 

The  Stage  Coach  (Sketch  Book),  Washington  Irving. 

Christmas  Day  {Sketch  Book),  Washington  Irving. 

Moll  White  (No.  117  of  the  Spectator),  Joseph  Addison. 

Labor  and  Exercise  (No.  115  of  the  Spectator),  Joseph  Addison. 

The  Club  (No.  2  of  the  Spectator),  Richard  Steele. 

The  Portrait  Gallery  (No.  109  of  the  Spectator),  Richard 
Steele. 

Will  Wimble  (No.  108  of  the  Spectator),  Joseph  Addison. 

Sir  Roger  and  the  Gipsies  (No.  130  of  the  Spectator),  Joseph 
Addison. 

A  Visit  to  Westminster  Abbey  (No.  329  of  the  Spectator), 
Joseph  Addison. 

The  Tragedies  of  the  Nests,  John  Burroughs. 

Bird  Enemies,  John  Burroughs. 

Modern  Gallantry,  Charles  Lamb. 

On  a  Piece  of  Chalk,  Thomas  Huxley. 

The  Threefold  Destiny,  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

David  Swan,  Nathaniel  Hawthorne. 

Chapter  I  of  The  Oregon  Trail,  Francis  Parkman. 

Self -Cultivation  in  English,  George  Herbert  Palmer. 

An  editorial  of  some  length  from  the  daily  newspaper. 


30  RHETORIC 

A  recent  magazine  article. 

A  chapter  from  a  high  school  textbook. 

A  sermon  or  an  address  recently  heard. 

14  Here  are  paragraphs  which  will  repay  careful  study. 
Each,  in  one  or  more  ways,  illustrates  means  by  which 
clearness  is  gained. 

Find  (a)  a  directive  paragraph  designed  to  let  the  reader 
know  in  advance  the  general  plan  of  what  is  to  follow; 
(b)  a  transitional  paragraph,  informing  the  reader  that 
one  part  of  the  essay  is  finished  and  another  part  is  now 
to  be  begun;  (c)  a  summarizing  paragraph  calling  to  mind 
what  has  gone  before;  (d)  a  paragraph  beginning  with 
a  topical  sentence  which  clearly  indicates  what  the 
paragraph  is  to  be  about;  (e)  a  paragraph  in  which  phrases 
are  introduced  to  help  the  reader  keep  track  of  passing 
time;  (f)  a  paragraph  in  which  phrases  are  introduced 
to  help  the  reader  keep  track  of  changing  position;  (g) 
a  paragraph  in  which  vividness  is  gained  through  con- 
trast; (h)  a  paragraph  in  which  clearness  is  flashed  through 
apt  comparison;  (i)  several  paragraphs  in  which  clearness 
is  gained  through  including  many  details  enabling  the 
imagination  to  form  a  picture;  (j)  a  paragraph  designed 
to  indicate  at  the  outset  the  limits  beyond  which  the  writer 
does  not  mean  to  stray;  (k)  a  paragraph  both  clear  and 
forceful  because  a  sequence  that  leads  from  the  less  to 
the  more  important  is  followed;  (1)  a  paragraph  the  open- 
ing sentence  of  which  contains  a  question  designed  to 
fix  the  reader's  attention  on  the  one  thing  the  paragraph 
is  intended  to  accomplish;  (m)  a  paragraph  beginning 
with  a  general  statement  that  is  followed  by  specific 
items;  (n)  a  paragraph  in  which  clearness  is  gained  by 
stating  several  times  nearly  the  same  idea;  (o)  para- 
graphs in  which  vividness  is  gained  through  the  careful 
use  of  adjectives. 


CLEARNESS  31 

This  exercise  should  furnish  material  for  at  least  three 
assignments. 

1.  Thus  far  naturalists  have  gone  in  the  description  of  this 
animal;  what  follows  is  the  result  of  my  own  observation  upon 
that  species  of  the  insect  called  a  house  spider.  I  perceived  about 
four  years  ago  a  large  spider  in  one  corner  of  my  room,  making  its 
web;  and  though  the  maid  frequently  leveled  her  fatal  broom 
against  the  labors  of  the  httle  animal,  I  had  the  good  fortune 
then  to  prevent  its  destruction;  and  I  may  say  it  more  than  paid 
me  by  the  entertainment  it  afforded. — Goldsmith 

2.  I  shall  speak  to  the  question  strictly  as  a  matter  of  right, 
for  it  is  a  proposition  in  its  nature  so  perfectly  distinct  from  the 
expediency  of  the  tax,  that  it  must  necessarily  be  taken  separate, 
if  there  is  any  true  logic  in  the  world;  but  of  the  expediency  or 
inexpediency  I  will  say  nothing.  It  will  be  time  enough  to  speak 
upon  that  subject  when  it  comes  to  be  a  question. — Mansfield 

3.  At  any  rate  "make  people  learn  to  read,  write,  and  cipher," 
say  a  good  many;  and  the  advice  is  undoubtedly  sensible  as  far 
as  it  goes.  But,  as  it  happened  to  me  in  former  days,  those  who, 
in  despair  of  getting  anything  better,  advocate  this  measure, 
are  met  with  an  objection  that  it  is  very  like  making  a  child 
practice  the  use  of  a  knife,  fork,  and  spoon,  without  giving  it  a 
particle  of  meat.  I  really  don't  know  what  reply  is  to  be  made 
to  such  an  objection. — Huxley 

4.  House  Wren  {Troglodytes  aedon):  Upper  parts  brown, 
mottled  with  darker;  underparts  brownish  or  grayish,  mottled 
with  darker;  breast  usually  darker  than  either  throat  or  belly. 
Beak  slender,  pale;  feet  pale;  tail  about  as  long  as  the  out- 
stretched legs.  Bird  less  than  two-thirds  the  length  of  a  sparrow. 
Sexes  similar. — Willcox 

5.  Sprightly,  fearless,  and  impudent  little  creatures  [house 
wrens],  apt  to  show  bad  temper  when  they  fancy  themselves 
aggrieved  by  cats  or  people,  or  anything  else  that  is  big  or  un- 
pleasant to  them;  they  quarrel  a  good  deal,  and  are  particularly 
spiteful  towards  martins  and  swallows,  whose  homes  they  often 
invade  and  occupy. — Cones 

6.  Then,  Sir,  from  these  six  capital  sources — of  descent,  of 
form  of  government,  of  religion  in  the  northern  provinces,  of 
manners  in  the  southern,  of  education,  of  the  remoteness  of 


32  RHETORIC 

situation  from  the  first  mover  of  government — from  all  these 
causes  a  fierce  spirit  of  liberty  has  sprung  up.  It  has  grown  with 
the  growth  of  the  people  in  your  colonies,  and  increased  with  the 
increase  of  their  wealth;  a  spirit  that  unhappily  meeting  with  an 
exercise  of  power  in  England,  which,  however  lawful,  is  not 
reconcilable  to  any  ideas  of  Bberty,  much  less  with  theirs,  has 
kindled  this  flame  that  is  ready  to  consume  us. — Burke 

7.  The  wave  that  came  upon  me  again  buried  me  at  once 
twenty  or  thirty  feet  deep  in  its  own  body;  and  I  could  feel  my- 
self carried  with  a  mighty  force  and  swiftness  toward  the  shore, 
a  very  great  way;  but  I  held  my  breath,  and  assisted  myself  to 
swim  still  forward  with  all  my  might.  I  was  ready  to  burst 
with  holding  my  breath,  when,  as  I  felt  myself  rising  up,  so  to 
my  immediate  relief  I  found  my  head  and  hands  shoot  out  above 
the  surface  of  the  water;  and  tho  it  was  not  two  seconds  of  the 
time  that  I  could  keep  myseK  so,  yet  it  relieved  me  greatly, 
gave  me  breath  and  new  courage.  I  was  covered  again  with 
water  a  good  while,  but  not  so  long  but  I  held  it  out;  and  finding 
the  water  had  spent  itself,  and  began  to  return,  I  struck  forward 
against  the  return  of  the  waves,  and  felt  ground  again  with  my 
feet.  I  stood  still  a  few  moments  to  recover  breath,  and  till  the 
water  went  from  me,  and  then  took  to  my  heels  and  ran  with 
what  strength  I  had  farther  towards  the  shore.  But  neither 
would  this  deliver  me  from  the  fury  of  the  sea,  which  came  pour- 
ing in  after  me  again;  and  twice  more  I  was  lifted  up  by  the  waves 
and  carried  forward  as  before,  the  shore  being  very  flat. — Defoe 

8.  After  a  dihgent  inquiry,  I  can  discern  four  principal  causes 
of  the  ruin  of  Rome,  which  continued  to  operate  in  a  period  of 
more  than  a  thousand  years.  I.  The  injuries  of  time  and  nature. 
II.  The  hostile  attacks  of  the  Barbarians  and  Christians.  III.  The 
use  and  abuse  of  the  materials.  And  IV.  The  domestic  quarrels 
of  the  Romans.  [The  following  paragraphs  deal  with  these 
four  causes.] — Gibbon 

9.  He  planted  himself  full  in  the  middle  of  the  apartment, 
opposite  to  the  table  at  which  Lucy  was  seated,  on  whom,  as  if 
she  had  been  alone  in  the  chamber,  he  bent  his  eyes  with  a 
mingled  expression  of  deep  grief  and  deliberate  indignation. 
His  dark-colored  riding  cloak,  displaced  from  one  shoulder,  hung 
around  one  side  of  his  person  in  the  ample  folds  of  the  Spanish 
mantle.   The  rest  of  his  rich  dress  was  travel-soiled,  and  deranged 


CLEARNESS  33 

by  hard  riding.  He  had  a  sword  by  his  side,  and  pistols  in  his 
belt.  His  slouched  hat,  which  he  had  not  yet  removed,  at  en- 
trance, gave  an  additional  gloom  to  his  dark  features,  which, 
wasted  by  sorrow  and  marked  by  the  ghastly  look  communicated 
by  long  illness,  added  to  a  countenance  naturally  somewhat 
stern  and  wild  a  fierce  and  even  savage  expression.  The  matted 
and  disheveled  locks  of  hair  which  escaped  from  under  his  hat, 
together  with  his  fixt  and  immovable  posture,  made  his  head 
more  resemble  that  of  a  marble  bust  than  that  of  a  living  man. 
He  said  not  a  single  word,  and  there  was  a  deep  silence  in  the 
company  for  more  than  two  minutes. — Scott 

10.  The  death  of  a  king  in  those  days  came  near  to  a  break-up 
of  all  civil  society.  Till  a  new  king  was  chosen  and  crowned, 
there  was  no  longer  a  power  in  the  land  to  protect  or  to  chastise. 
All  bonds  were  loosed;  all  pubhc  authority  was  in  abeyance; 
each  man  had  to  look  to  his  own  as  he  best  might.  No  sooner 
was  the  breath  out  of  William's  body  than  the  great  company 
w^hich  had  watched  around  him  during  the  night  was  scattered 
hither  and  thither.  The  great  men  mounted  their  horses  and 
rqde  with  all  speed  to  their  o^vn  homes,  to  guard  their  houses 
and  goods  against  the  outburst  of  lawlessness  which  was  sure  to 
break  forth  now  that  the  land  had  no  longer  a  ruler.  Their 
servants  and  followers,  seeing  their  lords  gone  and  deeming  that 
there  was  no  longer  any  fear  of  punishment,  began  to  make 
spoil  of  the  royal  chamber.  Weapons,  clothes,  vessels,  the  royal 
bed  and  its  furniture,  were  carried  off,  and  for  a  whole  day  the 
body  of  the  Conqueror  lay  well-nigh  bare  on  the  floor  of  the 
room  in  which  he  died. — Freeman 

11.  No  persons  could  at  first  glance  have  seemed  less  evenly 
matched  than  the  two  antagonists.  Tetraides,  tho  no  taller 
than  Lydon,  weighed  considerably  more;  the  natural  size  of  his 
muscles  was  increased,  to  the  eyes  of  the  vulgar,  by  masses  of 
solid  flesh;  for,  as  it  was  a  notion  that  the  contest  of  the  cestus 
fared  easiest  with  him  who  was  plumpest,  Tetraides  had  en- 
couraged to  the  utmost  his  hereditary  predisposition  to  the 
portly.  His  shoulders  were  vast,  and  his  lower  limbs  thick-set, 
double-jointed,  and  slightly  curved  outward,  in  that  formation 
which  takes  so  much  from  beauty  to  give  so  largely  to  strength. 
But  Lydon,  except  that  he  was  slender  even  almost  to  meager- 
ness,  was  beautifully  and  delicately  proportioned;  and  the  skilful 


34  RHETORIC 

might  have  perceived  that  with  much  less  compass  of  muscle 
than  his  foe,  that  which  he  had  was  more  seasoned — iron  and 
compact.  In  proportion,  too,  as  he  wanted  flesh,  he  was  likely 
to  possess  activity;  and  a  haughty  smile  on  his  resolute  face, 
which  strongly  contrasted  with  the  solid  heaviness  of  his  enemy's, 
gave  assurance  to  those  who  beheld  it  and  united  their  hope  to 
their  pity;  so  that  despite  the  disparity  of  their  seeming  strength, 
the  cry  of  the  multitude  was  nearly  as  loud  for  Lydon  as  for 
Tetraides. — Bulwer  Lytton 

12.  The  proposition  is  peace.  Not  peace  through  the  medium 
of  war;  not  peace  to  be  hunted  through  the  lab3T:'inth  of  intricate 
and  endless  negotiations;  not  peace  to  arise  out  of  universal 
discord,  fomented,  from  principle,  in  all  parts  of  the  empire;  not 
peace  to  depend  on  the  juridical  determination  of  perplexing 
questions,  or  the  precise  marking  the  shadowy  boundaries  of  a 
complex  government.  It  is  simple  peace,  sought  in  its  natural 
course  and  in  its  ordinary  haunts.  It  is  peace  sought  in  the 
spirit  of  peace,  and  laid  in  principles  purely  pacific.  I  propose, 
by  removing  the  ground  of  the  difference,  and  by  restoring  the 
former  unsuspecting  confidence  of  the  colonies  in  the  mother 
country,  to  give  permanent  satisfaction  to  your  people;  and  (far 
from  a  scheme  of  ruling  by  discord)  to  reconcile  them  to  each 
other  in  the  same  act,  and  by  the  bond  of  the  very  same  interest, 
which  reconciles  them  to  British  government. — Burke 

13.  Refined  policy  ever  has  been  the  parent  of  confusion,  and 
ever  will  be  so,  as  long  as  the  world  endures.  Plain  good  inten- 
tion, which  is  as  easily  discovered  at  the  first  view  as  fraud  is 
surely  detected  at  last,  is,  let  me  say,  of  no  mean  force  in  the 
government  of  mankind.  Genuine  simplicity  of  heart  is  a  heal- 
ing and  cementing  principle. — Burke 

14.  After  the  long  procession  of  sheep  and  goats  and  dogs  and 
men  and  women  and  children,  come  horses  loaded  with  cloths 
and  poles  for  tents,  kitchen  utensils,  and  the  rest  of  the  young- 
lings of  the  flock.  A  little  after  sunrise  I  see  well-fed  donkeys,  in 
coverings  of  red  cloth,  driven  over  the  bridge  to  be  milked  for 
invalids.  Maid-servants,  bareheaded,  with  huge,  high-carved 
combs  in  their  hair,  waiters  of  coffee-houses  carrying  the  morning 
cup  of  coffee  or  chocolate  to  their  customers,  bakers'  boys  with 
a  dozen  loaves  on  a  board  balanced  on  their  heads,  milkmen 
with  rush  baskets  filled  with  flasks  of  milk  are  crossing  the 


CLEARNESS  35 

streets  in  all  directions.  A  little  later  the  bell  of  the  small  chapel 
opposite  to  my  window  rings  furiously  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  then  I  hear  mass  chanted  in  a  deep  strong  nasal  tone.  As 
the  day  advances,  the  English,  in  white  hats  and  white  panta- 
loons, come  out  of  their  lodgings,  accompanied  sometimes  by 
their  hale  and  square-built  spouses,  and  saunter  stiffly  along  the 
Arno,  or  take  their  way  to  the  public  galleries  and  museums. 
Their  massive,  clean,  and  brightly  pohshed  carriages  also  begin 
to  rattle  through  the  streets,  setting  out  on  excursions  to  some 
part  of  the  environs  of  Florence — to  Fiesole,  to  the  Pratolino, 
to  the  Bello  Sguardo,  to  the  Poggio  Imperiale. — Bryant 

15.  And  what  effect  has  this  splendor  on  those  who  pass 
beneath  it?  You  may  walk  from  sunrise  to  sunset,  to  and  fro, 
before  the  gateway  of  St.  Mark's,  and  you  will  not  see  an  eye 
lifted  to  it,  nor  a  countenance  brightened  by  it.  Priest  and  lay- 
man, soldier  and  civilian,  rich  and  poor,  pass  by  it  regardlessly. 
Up  to  the  very  recesses  of  the  porches,  the  meanest  tradesmen 
of  the  city  push  their  counters;  nay,  the  foundations  of  its 
pillars  are  themselves  the  seats,  not  ''of  them  that  sell  doves" 
for  sacrifice,  but  of  the  venders  of  toys  and  caricatures.  Round 
the  whole  square  in  front  of  the  church  there  is  almost  a  con- 
tinuous line  of  caf^s,  where  the  idle  Venetians  of  the  middle 
classes  lounge  and  read  empty  journals;  in  its  center  the  Austrian 
bands  play  during  the  time  of  vespers,  their  martial  music  jarring 
with  the  organ  notes — the  march  drowning  the  miserere  and  the 
sullen  crowd  thickening  round  them — a  crowd  which  if  it  had 
its  will  would  stiletto  every  soldier  that  pipes  to  it.  And  in  the 
recesses  of  the  porches,  all  day  long,  knots  of  men  of  the  lowest 
classes,  unemployed  and  listless,  lie  basking  in  the  sun  like 
lizards;  and  unregarded  children — every  heavy  glance  of  their 
young  eyes  full  of  desperation  and  stony  depravity  and  their 
throats  hoarse  with  cursing — gamble  and  fight  and  snarl  and 
sleep,  hour  after  hour,  clashing  their  bruised  centesimi  upon  the 
marble  ledges  of  the  church  porch.  And  the  images  of  Christ 
and  his  angels  look  down  upon  it  continually. — Ruskin 

16.  After  dinner  we  adjourned  to  the  drawing-room,  which 
served  also  for  study  and  library.  Against  the  wall  on  one  side 
was  a  long  writing-table,  with  drawers,  surmounted  by  a  small 
cabinet  of  pohshed  wood,  with  folding  drawers  richly  studded 
with  brass  ornaments,  within  which  Scott  kept  his  most  valuable 


36  RHETORIC 

papers.  Above  the  cabinet,  in  a  kind  of  niche,  was  a  complete 
corselet  of  ghttering  steel,  with  a  closed  helmet,  and  flanked  by 
gauntlets  and  battle-axes.  Around  were  hung  trophies  and 
relics  of  various  kinds:  a  scimitar  of  Tipu  Sahib;  a  Highland 
broadsword  from  Flodden  field;  a  pair  of  Rippon  spurs  from 
Bannockburn;  and  above  all,  a  gun  which  had  belonged  to  Rob 
Roy,  and  bore  his  initials,  R.  M.  C,  an  object  of  peculiar  interest 
to  me  at  the  time,  as  it  was  understood  Scott  was  actually 
engaged  in  printing  a  novel  founded  on  the  story  of  that  famous 
outlaw. — Irving 

17.  That  man,  I  think,  has  had  a  liberal  education,  who  has 
been  so  trained  in  youth  that  his  body  is  the  ever  ready  servant 
of  his  will,  and  does  with  ease  and  pleasure  all  the  work  that,  as 
a  mechanism,  it  is  capable  of;  whose  intellect  is  a  clear,  cold, 
logic  engine,  with  all  its  parts  of  equal  strength,  and  in  smooth 
working  order,  ready,  like  a  steam  engine,  to  be  turned  to  any 
kind  of  work,  and  spin  the  gossamers  as  well  as  forge  the  anchors 
of  the  mind;  whose  mind  is  stored  with  a  knowledge  of  the  great 
and  fundamental  truths  of  Nature  and  of  the  laws  of  her  opera- 
tions; one  who,  no  stunted  ascetic,  is  full  of  life  and  fire,  but 
whose  passions  are  trained  to  come  to  heel  by  a  vigorous  will, 
the  servant  of  a  tender  conscience;  who  has  learned  to  love  all 
beauty,  whether  of  Nature  or  of  art,  to  hate  all  vileness,  and  to 
respect  others  as  himself. — Huxley 


CHAPTER  IV 
FORCE 

By  force  or  forcefulness  is  meant  that  quality  which 
impels  attention  and  makes  what  is  said  take  hold.     / 
understand,  we  say  if  all  is  clear;  I  am  in- 
terested,  or  /  am  moved,  if  all  is  forceful. 
Clearness  satisfies  what  is  loosely  called  the  intellect  or 
the   understanding;   force  stirs   the   emotions.      In   one 
respect    the    name    selected    for   this   quality  is   some- 
what misleading;  for  it  commonly  suggests    Gentleness 
only    that    which    is    vigorous   and   virile,    as  well  as 
whereas  its  broad  range  includes  the  idea    "^^sor 
of  gentleness,  reserve,  calm  dignity,  in  short  whatever 
appeals  to  the  emotions.     For  force  is  as  varied  in  the 
realm  of  expression  as  in  the  world  of  nature,  where  the 
tornado  which  uproots  trees  and  levels  buildings  is  no 
better  example  than  the  gentle  rains  and  the  warmth  of 
the  sun  which  turn  the  brown  fields  green  in  springtime. 

What  is  the  secret  of  force?    Since  emotions  are  of  many 
kinds  and  since  the  ways  in  which  they  may  be  quickened 
are  many,   it  is  evident  that  a  complete 
answer  to  this  question  cannot  be  given. 
We  know,  it  is  true,  that  force  depends  in 
a  measure  on  wise  choice  of  subject  matter,  some  things 
being  naturally  more  interesting  than  others  and  therefore 
more  likely  to  stir  the  emotions.    It  is  equally  apparent 
that  vigor  and  richness  of  character  are  essential,  the 
words  of  great  writers  and  great  orators  moving  us  because 
these  writers  and  orators  are  keen  thinkers,  forceful  people 

37 


38  RHETORIC 

who  are  by  nature  deeply  emotional  or  gifted  with  imagi- 
native powers.  And  quite  as  obvious  is  a  third  truth; 
namely,  that  forcefulness  depends  not  alone  on  wise 
choice  of  subject  matter  and  on  vigor  and  richness  of 
character  but  on  skill  in  the  use  of  language,  or  ability  to 
*'put  things"  effectively.  In  some,  this  ability  seems 
heaven-sent,  a  natural  gift  not  to  be  hoped  for  by  every- 
body; in  others,  it  is  a  comfort  to  believe,  such  ability 
is  solely  the  result  of  painstaking  effort  and  long  practice. 
Perhaps  the  most  helpful  thing  that  can  be  said  on  the 
subject  is  that  force  comes  mainly  through  attention  to 

clearness — is  indeed  but  clearness  of  a 
main  source      l^^g^^,  higher  kind.     All  that  is  contained 

in  the  preceding  chapter  might  appro- 
priately be  repeated  at  this  point,  especially  what  is  said 
of  the  advantage  of  supplying  an  abundance  of  particulars 
and  of  substituting  specific  words  for  those  which  are 
vague  and  general.  For  emotions  can  be  stirred  only 
through  the  imagination,  and  the  imagination  must  be 
given  sufficient  material  out  of  which  to  construct  mind- 
pictures. 

So  important  is  this  point  that  it  will  bear  still  further 
illustration.    Building  is  a  general  term,  applicable  to  many 

different  kinds  of  structures;  it  calls  to  mind 
d^^^il  ^  ^^  ^^^^  definite  picture.    Dwelling  is  more 

specific;  the  imagination  can  do  something 
with  it.  But  there  are  many  buildings,  widely  different 
in  appearance,  which  properly  may  be  called  dwellings; 
the  picture  is  therefore  still  vague.  If  for  dwelling  we 
substitute  cottagCj  the  impression  becomes  somewhat 
clearer.  Add  but  an  adjective  or  two — thatched,  rose* 
embowered — and  from  the  words  a  thatched  cottage,  rose- 
embowered,  the  imagination  can  construct  a  fairly  complete 
picture.    We  camped  under  some  trees  is  a  hazy  statement 


FORCE  39 

compared  with  We  camped  under  three  tall  pines.  The 
little  word  yellow  is  not  wasted  when  Stevenson  writes 

In  winter  I  get  up  at  night 
And  dress  by  yellow  candle-light. 

Irving  might  have  written,  of  the  attendant  who  conducted 
him  about  the  birthplace  of  Shakespeare,  The  house  is 
shown  hy  an  old  lady.  This  is  what  he  did  write :  The  house 
is  shown  hy  a  garrulous  old  lady  with  a  frosty  red  face  lighted 
up  hy  a  cold  hlue,  anxious  eye,  and  garnished  with  artificial 
locks  of  flaxen  hair  curling  from  under  an  exceedingly  dirty 
cap. 

"The  mind  of  man,''  it  has  been  truly  said,  "is  peopled, 
like  some  silent  city,  with  a  sleeping  company  of  reminis- 
cences, associations,  impressions,  attitudes,  Connotative 
emotions,  to  be  awakened  into  fierce  activity  or  suggestive 
at  the  touch  of  words."  Words  differ  widely  words 
in  their  power  to  waken  the  "silent  city"  of  the  mind; 
some  are  very  feeble,  others  truly  enchanting.  The  secret 
of  the  enchanting  word  frequently  lies  in  its  power  to  point 
out  somewhat  specifically  that  which  is  at  hand  and  at  the 
same  time  subtly  suggest  much  that  may  be  more  or  less 
remote  in  time  or  space.  Highly  suggestive  words  of  such 
double  power  are  called,  technically,  connotative.  Pro- 
fessor Wendell  cites  as  examples  dayhreak  and  cockcrow, 
which  primarily  denote  early  morning,  and  secondarily 
suggest  the  sights  and  sounds  of  coming  day. 

A  bow-shot  from  her  bower-eaves 
He  rode  between  the  barley-sheaves, 

run  the  lines  in  The  Lady  of  Shalott,  bow-shot  suggesting 
far  more  than  a  given  number  of  yards.  Shakespeare 
makes  Hamlet  swear  By  these  pickers  and  stealers.  We 
assume  that  he  means  By  these  fingers  of  mine;  but  the 


40  RHETORIC 

words  also  suggest  that  fingers  sometimes  do  petty  thiev- 
ery. Macaulay  writes,  Of  about  a  hundred  and  sixty  nobles 
who  walked  in  the  ^procession  on  the  first  day  [of  the  trial  of 
Hastings]  sixty  had  been  laid  in  their  family  vaults.  He 
might  have  written  merely  that  sixty  had  died;  but  he 
desired  not  only  to  state  the  bare  fact  that  so  many  had 
died,  we  may  believe,  but  to  suggest  the  ceremonious 
funeral  pageant. 

Clearness  through  supplying  an  abundance  of  partic- 
ulars, specific  details,  subtle  suggestions,  out  of  which  the 

imagination  may  easily  construct  mind- 
Brevity  ^    ^  1      •  •     i- 

pictures:  this,  surely,  is  necessary  in  force- 
ful expression.  Writers  and  speakers  must  be  most 
lavish  in  bestowing  material,  counting  no  cost  in  the 
number  of  words  used,  furnishing  freely  the  strongest, 
most  suggestive  words  at  their  command.  Large  returns 
call  for  large  investments.  And  yet  a  second  source  of 
forcefulness  is,  beyond  question,  brevity,  which  calls  not 
for  prodigality  but  for  reasonable  economy.  Elaborate 
introductions,  the  rehearsal  of  needless  details,  painstaking 
explanation  of  that  which  needs  no  explanation,  the  flat 
proclaiming  of  old  truths,  digressions,  saying  practically 
the  same  thing  over  and  over,  going  round  and  round  about 
instead  of  taking  an  obviously  shorter  route,  going  on 
and  on  though  the  end  of  the  narrative  has  been  reached, 
employing  ten  feeble  words  where  one  or  two  would  suffice 
— how  common  such  failings  are  and  how  tiresome,  exas- 
perating!   Here  is  the  poet  Dry  den's  familiar  rule: 

Gently  make  haste,  of  labor  not  afraid; 

A  hundred  times  consider  what  you've  said; 

Polish,  repolish,  every  color  lay, 

And  sometimes  add,  but  oftener  take  away. 

Though  parts  of  this  rule  may  be  of  questionable  value, 


FORCE  41 

the  last  line  contains  sound  advice.  Force  comes  through 
eliminating  useless  statements,  useless  words;  through 
substituting  hints  and  suggestions  for  wordy  details; 
through  taking  short  cuts  across  the  fields  instead  of 
following  the  long,  dusty  highway.  It  comes  through 
confining  attention  to  that  which  is  essential. 

Adherence  to  the  two  principles  of  clearness  and 
brevity,'  the  one  calling  for  an  almost  prodigal  profusion 
of  material,  the  other  as  loudly  calling  for  rigid  economy 
in  confining  and  directing  attention,  will  go 
a  long  way  towards  producing  force.  Of  the 
many  special  devices  which  we  use  instinctively  without 
counsel  from  textbooks,  the  simplest,  and  perhaps  the 
most  effective,  is  plain  repetition.  How  natural  it  is,  in 
time  of  disappointment,  to  say  not  merely  Too  had,  but 
Too  had,  too  had,  too  had!  We  read  that  when  David  heard 
of  his  son's  death  he  was  much  moved,  and  went  up  to  the 
chamher  over  the  gate,  and  wept;  and  as  he  went,  thus  he  said: 

0  my  son  Ahsalom!  my  son,  my  son  Ahsalom!  would  God 

1  had  died  for  thee.  0  Ahsalom,  my  son,  my  son!  Repeti- 
tion skilfully  disguised  is  seen  in  the  following  lines : 

Where  the  love-lorn  nightingale 

Nightly  to  thee  her  sad  song  mourneth  well. 

Love4orn,  sad,  mourneth,  all  suggest  grief,  and  the  repeti- 
tion of  the  syllable  night  in  nightingale  and  nightly  faintly 
conveys  the  idea  of  unremitting  sorrow.    In  prose  and  in 
poetry,  we  find  that  the  vigorous  writer  batters  away  at 
the  door  of  our  emotions,  delivering  blow  after  blow  at 
nearly  the  same  spot,  till  admission  is  gained. 
He  repeats  his  thought  in  this  form  and      ^     , 
that,  now  expanding  it  into  a  simile  or  alle- 
gory, now  condensing  it  into  a  metaphor;  he  flashes  it 
forth  in  epigram,  or  exalts  it  by  means  of  hyperbole,  or 


42  RHETORIC 

even  echoes  the  sense  in  onomatopoeia  as  in  the  fine 

Hnes 

Unknown,  and  like  esteemed,  and  the  dull  swain 
Treads  on  it  daily  with  his  clouted  shoon, 

where  we  seem  to  hear  the  heavy,  careless  tread  of  the 
rude  swain  crushing  flowers  the  worth  of  which  is  to  him 
all  unknown.  *  Simile,  metaphor,  allegory,  epigram, 
hyperbole,  onomatopoeia,  all  are  frequently  but  subtle 
repetition  devices,  ways  of  emphasizing,  driving  home, 
impressions.  They  are  almost  as  common  in  daily,  un- 
guarded speech  as  in  the  works  of  the  great  writers. 

Nearly  as  simple  as  repetition  is  the  device  known  as 
contrast.    Black  is  placed  against  white  that  the  black- 
ness may  receive  emphasis.     Beauty  and 
Contrast  ,.  *^  a      -a      u        -a       ^  -  ^ 

uglmess  are   ranged    side    by   side;    virtue 

and  vice  are  brought  together,  the  one  setting  off  the 
other.  Contrast  often  calls  for  what  is  termed  a  balanced 
sentence;  that  is,  a  sentence  in  which  one  part  is  set  over 
against — balances — another  part,  as  in 

To  err  is  human;  to  forgive,  divine, 

where  to  err  balances  to  forgive,  and  human  balances  divine. 
We  see  it  in  the  following  sentence  from  Macaulay's  Life 
of  Johnson:  In  the  child  the  physical,  intellec- 
tual, and  moral  peculiarities  which  afterwards 
distinguished  the  man  were  plainly  discernible: 
great  muscular  strength  accompanied  by  much  awkwardness 
and  many  infirmities;  great  quickness  of  parts,  with  a  morbid 
propensity  to  sloth  and  procrastination;  a  khid  and  generous 
heart,  with  a  gloomy  and  irritable  temper.     In  the  first  illus- 
tration the  balance  runs  through  the  entire  sentence;  in  the 
second,  it  is  found  in  the  phrases  separated  by  the  semico- 

*  For  the  meaning  of  these  terms  see  the  section  in  the  Appendix  which 
deals  with  Figures. 


FORCE  4a 

Ions.  It  may  extend  through  an  entire  paragraph,  the 
first  half  balancing  the  rest.  Whole  compositions,  even, 
may  be  planned  with  this  device  in  mind,  the  full  contrast 
remaining  incomplete,  it  may  be,  till  the  last  word  is 
written. 

A  third  device  is  known  as  climax,  an  arrangement 
by  which  interest  is  made  to  increase  step  by  step^ 
the  more  important  or  the  more  interesting 
following  the  less  important  or  less  interest- 
ing, till  an  impressive  close  is  reached.  Curiosity  first 
having  been  aroused,  that  which  is  needed  to  gratify  the 
curiosity  is  withheld,  and  still  withheld,  till  at  last  a 
revelation,  often  somewhat  unexpected  in  character,  is- 
granted.  Plays  and  novels,  as  we  all  know,  are  commonly 
but  a  series  of  climaxes,  each  satisfying  the  curiosity  in 
part,  only  to  arouse  it  again  and  in  still  greater  degree, 
the  intensity  of  interest  rising,  and  rising,  and  still  rising, 
till  the  end  is  reached.  Paragraphs  are  sometimes  built 
on  the  chmax  plan.  Notice  the  following  from  Macaulay's 
essa}^  on  Milton: 

The  advocates  of  Charles,  like  the  advocates  of  other  male- 
factors against  whom  overwhelming  evidence  is  produced,  gen- 
erally decline  all  controversy  about  facts,  and  content  them- 
selves with  calling  testimony  to  character.  He  had  so  many 
private  virtues!  And  had  James  the  Second  no  private  virtues? 
Was  Oliver  Cromwell,  his  bitterest  enemies  themselves  being 
judges,  destitute  of  private  virtues?  And  what,  after  all,  are  the 
virtues  ascribed  to  Charles?  A  religious  zeal,  not  more  sincere 
than  that  of  his  son,  and  fully  as  weak  and  narrow-minded,  and 
a  few  of  the  ordinary  household  decencies,  which  half  the  tomb- 
stones in  England  claim  for  those  who  lie  beneath  them.  A  good 
father!  A  good  husband!  Ample  apologies  indeed  for  fifteen 
years  of  persecution,  tyranny,  and  falsehood! 

Notice  too  the  strong  climax  effect  in  the  following 
words  which  Macbeth  addresses  to  the  witches : 


44  RHETORIC 

I  conjure  you,  by  that  which  you  profess 

Howe'er  you  come  to  know  it,  answer  me. 

Though  you  untie  the  winds  and  let  them  fight 

Against  the  churches;  though  the  yesty  waves 

Confound  and  swallow  navigation  up; 

Though  bladed  corn  be  lodged  and  trees  blown  down; 

Though  palaces  and  pyramids  do  slope 

Their  heads  to  their  foundation;  though  the  treasure 

Of  nature's  germins  tumble  all  together, 

Even  till  destruction  sicken,  answer  me 

To  what  I  ask  you. 

Sentences  constructed  on  the  climax  plan,  the  meaning 

held  in  suspense  till  the  end,  are  called  periodic.     The 

sentence  just  written  is  an  example  in  that 

there  is  an  element  of  suspense  which  is  not 

S6Ilt6tlC6S 

removed  till  the  last  word,  periodic,  appears. 
So  too  is  the  following: 

Had  he  not  resembled 
My  father  as  he  slept,  I  had  done't. 

In  a  well-constructed  climax  there  is  not  only  suspense 

but  an  element  of  surprise.    Surprise  is  often  produced  by 

means  of  contrast,  the  bringing  together  of 
Suspense  and  . ,  .         , 

.  opposites.     Even  m  a  loose  sentence,  as  one 

surprise  ^^ 

is  called  which  is  neither  periodic  nor  bal- 
anced, there  is  frequently  a  mild  element  of  surprise,  and 
a  consequent  focusing  of  attention,  through  the  unusual 
position  of  words  or  phrases;  for  whatever  is  out  of  its 
natural  position  attracts  notice.  In  the  sentence  For  his 
Unusual  f^ci^^  empires  had  risen,  and  flourished,  and  (Re- 

sentence caijed,  the  phrase  For  his  sake  is  more  con- 

arrangement  spicuous  than  it  would  be  if  placed,  where 
grammatically  it  belongs,  after  decaijed.  Right  hitter  was 
the  agony  is  more  forceful  than  The  agony  was  right  hitter; 
at  least  we  may  say  that  through  inverting  the  sentence 


FORCE  45 

the  poet  makes  Right  hitter  leap  out  at  the  reader — much 
as  does  the  first  word  in  the  Une 

Yelled  on  the  view  the  opening  pack. 

Sentences  periodic  or  balanced  in  construction,  sen- 
tences in  which  some  unusual  order  is  followed,  are 
effective  not  only  in  that  they  focus  atten-  . 
tion  on  whatever  demands  emphasis,  but 
in  that  they  contribute  variety.  Monotony  in  sentence 
structure  is  as  tiresome  as  monotony  in  voice,  or  the  ab- 
sence of  facial  expression.  Long  sentences,  short ;  interrog- 
ative, declarative,  exclamatory;  periodic,  loose,  balanced — 
all  appear  in  animated  conversation  and  in  vigorous  writing, 
though  seldom  are  all  these  forms  to  be  found  in  a  single  para- 
graph, as  is  the  case  in  the  passage  quoted  from  Macaulay. 

But  the  devices  by  which  force  is  gained  are  too  nu- 
merous and  too  subtle  to  permit  of  complete  enumeration. 
Instinctively,     when    deeply    moved    and 

anxious  to  share  our  emotions  with  others,      i^P^ciyan 
.  .  „       .      .  earnestness 

we  substitute  direct  discourse  for  indirect, 

the  historical  present  for  the  past;  we  personify  the  inan- 
imate, we  resort  to  exaggeration.  We  move  others  through 
humor,  through  pathos,  through  ridicule  and  irony.  We 
resort  to  a  score  of  petty  devices  in  our  attempt  to  arouse 
that  "sleeping  company"  with  which  the  mind  of  man  is 
peopled.  Yet  how  frequently  we  find  that  far  more  effect- 
ive than  all  dramatic  devices  is  plain  simplicity!  Theat- 
rical ways  may  fascinate  at  times;  yet  a  quiet  earnestness, 
born  of  sincerity,  is  far  more  effective  in  the  long  run. 

The  substance  of  the  preceding  paragraphs  may  be 
summarized  as  follows:  Force,   or  forcefulness,   is  that 
quality    which    impels    attention    through 
stirring  the  emotions.    In  general,  it  may 
be  said,  force  depends  on  wise  choice  of  subject  matter, 


46  RHETORIC 

natural  vigor  and  richness  of  character,  and  skill  in 
presentation  of  subject  matter.  In  particular,  it  is  the 
product  of  (1)  clearness  through  profusion  of  details, 
through  the  employment  of  specific  words  rather  than 
general,  and  through  the  employment  of  connotative  or 
suggestive  words;  (2)  brevity;  (3)  a  wise  employment  of 
repetition,  contrast,  climax,  and  unusual  order;  (4)  vari- 
ety in  sentence  structure;'  (5)  plain  simplicity,  earnestness. 
Or  the  substance  of  the  paragraphs  may  be  represented 
by  the  following  outline : 

FORCE 

I  Definition:   That   quality   which   impels   attention 

through  stirring  the  emotions 
II  Sources 

A  In  general 

A  wise  choice  of  subject  matter 
Vigor  and  richness  of  character 
Skill  in  presentation  of  subject  matter 
B  In  particular 
Clearness 

Through  profusion  of  particulars 
Through  specific  words 
Through  suggestive  or  connotative  words 
Brevity 
Special  devices 
Repetition 
Contrast 
Climax 

Unusual  order 
Variety 
Plain  simplicity  and  earnestness 

Below  is  given  a  vocabulary,  loosely  grouped,  more  or 
less  intimately  associated  with  force.    Some  terms  are  but 


FORCE  47 

synonyms;  others  name  forceful  moods  and  temperaments; 
still  others,  skill  in  the  craft  of  expression ;  and  a  few,  the 
effect  of  forceful  expression  upon  listener  and  reader.  If 
any  should  prove  unfamiliar,  consult  a  good  dictionary. 

I  Forceful,  strong,  vigorous,  robust,  virile. 
II  Judicial,  thoughtful,  sane,  critical,  medita- 
tive, keen,  shrewd. 

III  Earnest,  fervid,  impulsive,  impetuous. 

IV  Animated,  lively,  vivacious,  spirited. 

V  Clever,  witty,  humorous,  felicitous,  happy, 
droll,  brilliant. 
VI  Brief,  concise,  compressed,  condensed,  terse, 

pithy,  epigrammatical. 
VII  Detailed,  minute,  particular,  concrete. 
VIII  Easy,  fluent,  rapid,  swift,  tripping,  sprightly, 
brisk,  surging. 
IX  Lifelike,  truthful,  graphic,  vivid,  pictorial. 
X  Moving,  affecting,  pathetic,  touching,  thrill- 
ing, tragic,  dramatic. 
XI  Amusing,  ludicrous,   comical,  farcical,  bur- 
lesque. 
XII  Weak,  languid,  puerile,  effeminate. 

XIII  Tame,  flat,  tiresome,  dull,  dry,  tedious,  mo- 

notonous, commonplace,  hackneyed,  trite. 

XIV  Clumsy,  crude,  awkward,  careless,  bungling, 

lumbering,  slovenly,  stiff. 
XV  Verbose,  redundant,  diffuse,  rambling,  strag- 
gling,   circuitous,    discursive,    digressive, 
long-winded. 
XVI  Trashy,    flippant,    frivolous,   petty,   trivial, 

sensational,  extravagant,  silly,  absurd. 
XVII  Declamatory,  ranting,  rhetorical,  pompous, 
high-flown,  gushing. 


48  RHETORIC 

EXERCISES 

1  Macaulay,  having  written  that  Samuel  Johnson 
sometimes  "regaled  a  friend  with  a  plain  dinner,"  adds, 
characteristically,  " — veal  pie,  or  a  leg  of  lamb  and  spin- 
ach, and  a  rice  pudding."  One  secret  of  his  power  as  an 
essayist  lies  in  the  great  pains  he  takes  to  supply  the  reader 
with  graphic  details.  Develop  one  of  the  following  sen- 
tences into  a  paragraph  of  some  length,  with  a  view  to 
supplying  the  details  necessary  before  the  reader  can  form 
in  his  mind  a  satisfactory  picture.  Be  careful  not  to  go 
beyond  the  bounds  prescribed  by  the  topical  sentence; 
that  is,  be  careful  to  preserve  unity. 

1.  With  this  remark  he  suddenly  threw  back  the  desk-lid,  and 
what  a  sight  met  his  eyes! 

2.  Before  putting  away  the  suit  for  the  winter,  she  thought 
it  best  to  examine  the  pockets. 

3.  Mary  now  opened  the  lunch  basket.  (Tell  graphically 
of  the  contents  as  they  appeared  to  the  hungry  picnickers.) 

4.  It  was  an  extremely  busy  thoroughfare. 

5.  In  the  back  yard  were  three  trees. 

6.  At  that  instant  Pete  knocked  out  what  proved  to  be  a 
three-bagger.    (Describe  the  excitement.) 

7.  The  boy  was,  unquestionably,  very  nervous.  (How  did 
he  show  it?) 

8.  He  had  been  told  to  keep  himself  tidy;  but  by  the  time  the 
guests  had  arrived,  you  should  have  seen  him! 

9.  Johnny  decided  to  crawl  under.  (Under  the  circus  tent,  a 
fence  enclosing  ball-grounds,  or  what  you  please;  but  describe 
his  facial  expression,  his  actions,  and  perhaps  his  emotions.) 

10.  Reposing  under  the  shed  was  an  old  wagon. 

11.  His  table  manners  were  exasperating. 

12.  He  knew  he  had  been  a  naughty  dog,  and  he  showed  it. 

13.  He  looked  every  inch  a  captain. 

14.  It  was  a  pleasure  to  see  with  what  skill  the  carpenter  used 
his  tools. 

15.  With  the  ball  barely  a  foot  from  the  goal  line,  the  whistle 
blew  and  the  game  was  over. 


FORCE  49 

16.  He  knew  automobiles  from  tire  to  the  most  obscure  part 
in  the  intricate  engine. 

2  Beginning  abruptly,  describe  in  a  single  paragraph 
one  of  the  following : 

1.  The  actions  of  a  cat  on  seeing  a  bird. 

2.  The  facial  expression,  actions,  and  possibly  the  disgruntled 
remarks,  of  a  small  boy  on  viewing  the  breakfast  table. 

3.  The  appearance  of  one  who  has  been  caught  in  a  shower. 

4.  The  actions  of  an  urchin  steahng  an  apple. 

5.  A  pair  of  old  shoes. 

6.  Emotions  on  hearing  the  rising  bell. 

7.  The  appearance  of  a  defeated  football  captain. 

8.  The  facial  expression  of  a  boy  perplexed  by  a  problem. 

9.  The  facial  expression  or  actions  of  a  carpenter  upon  dis- 
covering that  he  has  sawed  his  board  in  the  wrong  place. 

10.  The  facial  expression  and  actions  of  a  housekeeper  upon 
remembering  that  she  put  a  cake  into  a  hot  oven  over  an  hour 
before. 

3  Write  a  paragraph  meriting  one  of  the  titles  found 
below.  Exert  yourself  to  the  utmost  to  convey  vivid  im- 
pressions. You  may  imagine  the  emotions  your  own  or 
another's;  you  may  imagine  whatever  circumstances  you 
please;  you  may  employ  narration,  description, — whatever 
form  you  please.  The  one  thing  needful  is  that  you  cause 
the  reader  to  experience  through  your  words  the  emotions 
lying  behind  the  title.  Begin  abruptly;  use  the  present 
tense. 

Cold.  Hot.  Dry.  Dusty.  Windy.  Damp.  Twihght. 
Gloom.  Darkness.  Silence.  Turmoil.  Clamor.  Slow  motion. 
Rapid  Motion.  Monotony.  Alone.  Deserted.  Idleness. 
Sleepy.  Midnight.  Struggle.  DazzHng  Hght.  Exhaustion. 
Grief.  Despair.  Hunger.  Fear.  Horror.  Remorse.  Toil. 
Intense  joy.  Bewilderment.  Suspense.  Creeping  time.  Vast 
space. 

4  Describe,  in  not  more  than  sixty  words  each,  any  three 
of  the  following,  selecting  your  adjectives  with  great  care: 


50  RHETORIC 

a  building,  a  person,  a  piece  of  furniture,  a  lower  animal 
(cow,  dog,  rabbit),  a  bit  of  landscape,  a  hat,  a  hand,  a 
countenance,  a  tree,  a  garden,  a  room,  the  song  of  a  bird. 

5  Determine  what  is  the  strongest  argument  that  can 
be  advanced  on  either  side  of  any  proposition  found  in  the 
twelfth  exercise  under  Clearness;  then  support  this  argu- 
ment in  as  vigorous  a  manner  as  you  can. 

6  Not  only  clearness  but  force  often  depends  on  ability 
to  select  appropriate  adjectives.  Here  are  the  synonyms 
for  brave  found  in  Marsh's  Thesaurus.  Study  them,  then 
make  a  list  of  all  the  words  you  can  think  of  which  express 
the  opposite  idea. 

Adventurous,  audacious,  aweless,  bold,  chivalrous,  confident, 
courageous,  daring,  dashing,  dauntless,  determined,  dogged, 
doughty,  dreadless,  enterprising,  fearless,  fierce,  firm,  gallant, 
hardy,  heroic,  indomitable,  intrepid,  lion-hearted,  lion-like, 
manful,  mettlesome,  plucky,  pugnacious,  reassured,  resolute, 
savage,  self-reliant,  soldierly,  spirited,  spiritful,  stout,  unabashed, 
unalarmed,  unappalled,  unapprehensive,  unawed,  unblenched, 
undaunted,  undismayed,  undreadful,  unfeared,  unshrinking, 
valiant,  valorous,  venturesome,  venturous. 

7  Think  of  more  graphic  substitutes,  single  words  or 
phrases,  for  the  following  expressions: 

Went  slowly,  replied,  struck,  laughed,  departed,  showed  as- 
tonishment, assented,  advanced,  disappeared. 

8  Think  of  an  appropriate  verb,  with  or  without  an 
accompanying  phrase,  to  express  the  sound  made  by  each 
of  the  following: 

A  galloping  horse,  the  wind  among  trees,  boiling  water,  the 
hinges  of  a  door,  a  heavy  wagon  on  stony  pavement,  a  train  of 
cars,  a  locomotive  whistle,  a  distant  cannon,  a  locust,  a  fly  caught 
in  a  web,  bees  in  a  tulip  tree,  waves  on  a  beach,  a  chain  dragged 
along  a  road,  a  boy  who  does  not  lift  his  feet,  a  lawn-mower. 


FORCE  51 

9  *  Here  are  brief  selections  illustrating  a  few  of  the 
many  forms  of  forcefulness.  Examine  each  with  great 
care,  reading  it  many  times  to  see  if  you  can  discover  why 
it  appeals  to  you.  Work  independently,  at  first;  then  let 
the  members  of  the  class  cooperate,  comparing  the  results 
of  individual  investigation;  finally,  perhaps  the  instructor 
will  add  his  estimate.  The  outline  on  page  46  may  sug- 
gest a  way  of  systematizing  the  work,  and  the  following 
questions  may  prove  suggestive : 

Is  the  nature  of  the  subject  matter  such  as  to  appeal 
strongly  to  our  interest?  Is  forcefulness  traceable  to  the 
vigor  and  richness  of  the  writer's  character — the  depth  of 
his  thought,  the  vividness  of  his  imagination,  his  sincerity, 
his  sense  of  humor,  his  wit,  his  sensitiveness  to  pathos,  his 
winsome  personality?  What  do  you  note  in  regard  to  the 
diction?  Are  the  words  precise,  specific,  picturesque, 
€onnotative,  sonorous?  What  of  the  sentences — unusually 
long,  unusually  short,  varied  in  length,  frequently  periodic 
or  balanced,  unusual  in  their  structure,  compact,  broken, 
frequently  interrogative  or  exclamatory?  Is  the  para- 
graph structure  noticeable?  What  figures  and  dramatic 
devices  are  common — simile,  metaphor,  personification, 
metonymy;  suspense,  surprise,  antithesis,  repetition?  Is 
there  a  profusion  of  specific  detail?  Finally,  try  to  con- 
dense into  one  or  two  sentences  the  leading  characteristics 
of  the  paragraph. 

1.  If  I  were  an  American,  ag  I  am  an  Englishman,  while  a 
foreign  troop  was  landed  in  my  country,  I  never  would  lay  down 
my  arms — never — never — never! — William  Pitt 

2.  For  my  part,  although  the  h.OTiorable  gentlemen  who  made 
this  motion,  and  some  other  gentlemen,  have  been,  more  than 
once,  in  the  course  of  the  debate,  severely  reprehended  for  calling 
it  a  wicked  and  accursed  war,  I  am  persuaded,  and  would  affirm, 

*  This  exercise,  it  is  needless  to  say,  should  furnish  material  for  a  num- 
ber of  recitations. 


52  RHETORIC 

that  it  was  a  most  accursed,  wicked,  barbarous,  cniel^^uimatural, 
unjust,  and  diabolical  war. — ^William  Pitt 

3.  They  tell  us,  sir,  that  we  are  weak — unable  to  cope  with  so 
formidable  an  adversary.  But  when  shall  we  be  stronger?  Will 
it  be  next  week,  or  the  next  year?  Will  it  be  when  we  are  totally 
disarmed,  and  when  a  British  guard  shall  be  stationed  in  every 
house?  Shall  we  gather  strength  by  irresolution  and  inaction? 
Shall  we  acquire  the  means  of  effectual  resistance  by  lying 
supinely  .on  our  backs  and  hugging -the  delusive  phantom  of 
hope,  until  our  enemies  slmU_lmvQj30imd  u^^^^^^  and  foot? — 
Patrick  Henry 

4.  "Heads,  heads,  take  care  of  your  heads,"  cried  the  lo^ 
quacious  stranger,  as  they  came  out  under  the  low  archway 
which  in  those  days  formed  the  entrance  to  the  coach-yard. 
**  Terrible  place — dangerous  work — other  day — five  children — 
mother — tall  lady,  eating  sandwiches — forgot  the  arch — crash — 
knock — children  look  round — mother's  head  off — sandwich  in 
her  hand — no  mouth  to  put  it  in — ^head  of  a  family  off — shock- 
ing, shocking." — Dickens 

5.  Life  is  a  narrow  vale  between  the  cold  and  barren  peaks  of 
two.  eternities.  We  strive  in  vain  to  look  beyond  the  heights. 
We  cry  aloud,  and  the  only  answer  is  the  echo  of  our  wailing  cry. 
From  the  voiceless  lips  of  the  unreplying  dead  there  comes  no. 
word;  but  in  the  night  of  death  hope  sees  a  star,  and  hstening 
love  can  hear  the  rustle  of  a  wing. — Ingersoll 

6.  It  is  therefore  death  alone  that  can  suddenly  make  man  to 
know  himself.  He  tells  the  proud  and  insolent  that  they  are  but 
abjects,  and  humbles  them  at  the  instant,  makes  them  cry, 
complain,  and  repent,  yea,  even  to  hate  their  fore-passed  happi- 
ness. He  takes  the  account  of  the  rich,  and  proves  him  a  beggar, 
a  naked  beggar,  which  hath  interest  in  nothing  but  in  the  gravel 
that  fills  his  mouth.  He  holds  a  glass  before  the  eyes  of  the  most 
beautiful,  and  makes  them  see  therein  their  deformity  and 
rottenness,  and  they  acknowledge  it. — Raleigh 

7.  Of  a  sudden  the  guns  on  the  slope  roared  out  a  message  of 
warning.  A  sphttering  sound  had  begun  in  the  woods.  It 
swelled  with  amazing  speed  to  a  profound  clamor  that  involved 
the  earth  in  noises.  The  splitting  crashes  swept  along  the  lines 
until  an  interminable  roar  was  developed.  To  those  in  the  midst 
of  it,  it  became  a  din  fitted  to  the  universe.    It  was  the  whirring 


FORCE  53 

and  thumping  of  gigantic  machinery,  complications  among  the 
smaller  stars.  They  were  incapable  of  hearing  more. — Stephen 
Crane 

8.  ''But,  Mr.  Speaker,  we  have  a  right  to  tax  America.  O  in- 
estimable right!  0  wonderful,  transcendent  right!  the  assertion 
of  which  has  cost  this  country  thirteen  provinces,  six  islands, 
one  hundred  thousand  lives,  and  seventy  miUions  of  money. 
O  invaluable  right!  for  the  sake  of  which  we  have  sacrificed  our 
rank  among  nations,  our  importance  abroad,  and  our  happiness 
at  home.  0  right  more  dear  to  us  than  existence,  which  has 
already  cost  us  so  much,  and  which  seems  likely  to  cost  us  our 
all.  Infatuated  man!  miserable  and  undone  country!  not  to 
know  that  the  claim  of  right,  without  the  power  of  enforcing  it, 
is  nugatory  and  idle.  We  have  a  right  to  tax  America,  the  noble 
lord  tells  us,  therefore  we  ought  to  tax  America.  This  is  the  pro- 
found logic  which  comprises  the  whole  chain  of  his  reasoning. — 
Burke 

9.  Laugh  and  mock  if  you  will  at  the  worship  of  stone  idols; 
but  mark  ye  this,  ye  breakers  of  images,  that  in  one  regard  the 
stone  idol  bears  awful  semblance  of  Deity — unchangefulness  in 
the  midst  of  changes — the  same  seeming  will  and  intent  for  ever 
and  ever  inexorable!  Upon  ancient  dynasties  of  Ethiopian  and 
Egyptian  kings — upon  Greek  and  Roman,  upon  Arab  and  Otto- 
man conquerors — upon  Napoleon  dreaming  of  an  Eastern 
empire — upon  battle  and  pestilence — upon  the  ceaseless  misery 
of  the  Egyptian  race — upon  keen-eyed  travelers — Herodotus 
yesterday,  and  Warburton  today — upon  all  and  more  this  un- 
worldly Sphinx  has  watched,  and  watched  like  a  Providence 
with  the  same  earnest  eyes,  and  the  same  sad,  tranquil  mien. 
And  we,  we  shall  die,  and  Islam  will  wither  away,  and  the  Eng- 
lishman straining  far  over  to  hold  his  loved  India,  will  plant  a 
firm  foot  on  the  banks  of  the  Nile,  and  sit  in  the  seats  of  the 
Faithful,  and  still  that  sleepless  rock  will  lie  watching  and  watch- 
ing the  works  of  the  new  busy  race,  with  those  same  sad  earnest 
eyes,  and  the  same  tranquil  mien  everlasting.  You  dare  not 
mock  at  the  Sphinx! — Kinglake 

10.  A  great  chapter  of  the  history  of  the  world  is  written  in 
the  chalk.  Few  passages  in  the  history  of  man  can  be  supported 
by  such  an  overwhelming  mass  of  direct  and  indirect  evidence 
as  that  which  testifies  to  the  truth  of  the  fragment  of  the  history 


54  RHETORIC 

of  the  globe  which  I  hope  to  enable  you  to  read  with  your  own 
eyes  tonight.  Let  me  add  that  few  chapters  of  human  history 
have  a  more  profoimd  significance  for  ourselves.  I  weigh  my 
words  well  when  I  assert  that  the  man  who  should  know  the 
true  history  of  the  bit  of  chalk  which  every  carpenter  carries 
about  in  his  breeches  pocket,  tho  ignorant  of  all  other  history,  is 
likely,  if  he  will  think  his  knowledge  out  to  its  ultimate  results, 
to  have  a  truer  and  therefore  a  better  conception  of  this  wonder- 
ful universe,  and  of  man's  relation  to  it,  than  the  most  learned 
student  who  is  deep-read  in  the  records  of  humanity  and  ignorant 
of  those  of  Nature. — Huxley 

11.  I  know  one  who,  when  she  is  happy,  reads  Nicholas 
Nickleby;  when  she  is  unhappy,  reads  Nicholas  Nickleby;  when 
she  is  tired,  reads  Nicholas  Nickleby;  when  she  is  in  bed,  reads 
Nicholas  Nickleby;  when  she  has  nothing  to  do,  reads  Nicholas 
Nickleby;  and  when  she  has  finished  the  book,  reads  Nicholas 
Nickleby  over  again. — Thackeray 

12.  One  could  bear  a  little  with  Oliver  Cromwell,  tho,  con- 
trary to  his  oath  of  fidelity  to  the  Parliament,  contrary  to  his 
duty  to  the  public,  contrary  to  the  respect  he  owed  that  venerable 
body  from  whom  he  received  his  authority,  he  usurped  the 
government.  His  merit  was  so  extraordinary  that  our  judgments, 
our  passions,  might  be  blinded  by  it.  He  made  his  way  to  em- 
pire by  the  most  illustrious  actions;  he  had  under  his  command 
an  army  that  had  made  him  conqueror,  and  a  people  that  had 
made  him  their  general.  But  as  for  Richard  Cromwell,  his  son, 
who  is  he?  What  are  his  titles?  We  have  seen  that  he  had  a  sword 
by  his  side;  but  did  he  ever  draw  it?  And  what  is  of  more  im- 
portance in  this  case,  is  he  fit  to  get  obedience  from  a  mighty 
nation,  who  could  never  make  a  footman  obey  him?  Yet  we 
must  recognize  this  man  as  our  king,  under  the  stjde  of  pro- 
tector!— a  man  without  birth,  without  courage,  without  con- 
duct! For  my  part,  I  declare,  sir,  it  shall  never  be  said  that  I 
made  such  a  man  my  master! — Vane 

13.  For  the  pure  clean  wit  of  a  sweet  young  babe  is  like  the 
newest  wax,  most  able  to  receive  the  best  and  fairest  printing; 
and  like  a  new  bright  silver  dish  never  occupied,  to  receive  and 
keep  clean  any  good  thing  that  is  put  into  it. — Ascham 

14.  Sir,  this  alarming  discontent  is  not  the  growth  of  a  day, 
or  of  a  year.    If  there  be  any  symptoms  by  which  it  is  possible 


FORCE  ^  55 

to  distinguish  the  chronic  disease  of  the  body  politic  from  its 
passing  inflammations,  all  those  symptoms  exist  in  the  present 
case.  The  taint  has  been  gradually  becoming  more  extensive 
and  more  malignant,  through  the  whole  hfetime  of  two  genera- 
tions. We  have  tried  anodynes.  We  have  tried  cruel  operations. 
What  are  we  now  trying?  Who  flatters  himself  that  he  can  turn 
this  feeling  back?  Does  there  remain  any  argument  which 
escaped  the  comprehensive  inteUect  of  Mr.  Burke,  or  the  subtlety 
of  Mr.  Windham?  Does  there  remain  any  species  of  coercion 
which  was  not  tried  by  Mr.  Pitt  and  by  Lord  Londonderry? 
We  have  had  laws.  We  have  had  blood.  New  treasons  have 
been  created.  The  Press  has  been  shackled.  The  Habeas 
Corpus  Act  has  been  suspended.  Pubhc  meetings  have  been 
prohibited.  The  event  has  proved  that  these  expedients  were 
mere  palliatives.  The  evil  remains.  It  is  more  formidable  than 
ever.    What  is  to  be  done? — Macaulay 

15.  Studies  serve  for  delight,  for  ornament,  and  for  ability. 
Their  chief  use  for  delight  is  in  privateness  and  retiring;  for 
ornament  is  in  discourse;  and  for  ability  is  in  the  judgment  and 
disposition  of  business.  For  expert  men  can  execute,  and  per- 
haps judge  of  particulars,  one  by  one;  but  the  general  counsels, 
and  the  plots  and  marshalling  of  affairs,  come  best  from  those 
that  are  learned.  To  spend  too  much  time  in  studies  is  sloth^  to 
use  them  too  much  for  ornament  is  affectation,  to  make  judg- 
ment only  by  their  rules  is  the  humor  of  a  scholar.  They 
perfect  nature,  and  are  perfected  by  experience.  For  natural 
abilities  are  like  natural  plants,  that  need  pruning  by  study;  and 
studies  themselves  do  give  forth  directions  too  much  at  large, 
except  they  be  bounded  in  by  experience.  Crafty  men  contemn 
studies,  simple  men  admire  them,  and  wise  men  use  them;  for 
they  teach  not  their  own  use,  but  that  is  wisdom  without  them 
and  above  them,  won  by  observation. — Lord  Bacon 

16.  A  Poor  Relation — is  the  most  irrelevant  thing  in  nature, — 
a  piece  of  impertinent  correspondency,— an  odious  approxima- 
tion,— a  haunting  conscience, — a  preposterous  shadow,  length- 
ening in  the  noontide  of  our  prosperity,  an  unwelcome  remem- 
brancer,— a  perpetually  recurring  mortification, — a  drain  on 
your  purse, — a  more  intolerable  dun  upon  your  pride, — a  draw- 
back upon  success, — a  rebuke  to  your  rising, — a  stain  in  your 
blood, — a  blot  on  your  'scutcheon, — a  rent  in  your  garment, — 


56  RHETORIC 

a  death's  head  at  your  banquet, — Agathocles'  pot, — a  Mordecai 
in  your  gate, — a  Lazarus  at  your  door, — a  lion  in  your  path, — 
a  frog  in  your  chamber, — a  fly  in  your  ointment, — a  mote  in 
your  eye, — a  triumph  to  your  enemy,  an  apology  to  your  friends, 
— the  one  thing  not  needful, — the  hail  in  harvest, — the  ounce  of 
sour  in  a  pound  of  sweet. — Lamb 

17.  But,  I  think,  the  noblest  sea  that  Turner  has  ever  painted, 
and,  if  so,  the  noblest  certainly  ever  painted  by  man,  is  that  of 
the  Slave  Ship,  the  chief  Academy  picture  of  the  exhibition  of 
1840.  It  is  a  sunset  on  the  Atlantic  after  prolonged  storm;  but 
the  storm  is  partially  lulled,  and  the  torn  and  streaming  rain- 
clouds  are  moving  in  scarlet  lines  to  lose  themselves  in  the 
hollow  of  night.  The  whole  surface  of  the  sea  included  in  the 
picture  is  divided  into  two  ridges  of  enormous  swell,  not  high, 
nor  local,  but  a  low,  broad  heaving  of  the  whole  ocean,  like  the 
lifting  of  its  bosom  by  deep-drawn  breath  after  the  torture  of  the 
storm.  Between  these  two  ridges,  the  fire  of  the  sunset  falls 
along  the  trough  of  the  sea,  dyeing  it  with  an  awful  but  glorious 
light,  the  intense  and  lurid  splendor  which  burns  like  gold  and 
bathes  like  blood.  Along  this  fiery  path  and  valley,  the  tossing 
waves  by  which  the  swell  of  the  sea  is  restlessly  divided,  lift 
themselves  in  dark,  indefinite,  fantastic  forms,  each  casting  a 
faint  and  ghostly  shadow  behind  it  along  the  illumined  foam. 
They  do  not  rise  everywhere,  but  three  or  four  together  in  wild 
groups,  fitfully  and  furiously,  as  the  under  strength  of  the  swell 
compels  or  permits  them;  leaving  between  them  treacherous 
spaces  of  level  and  whirling  water,  now  lighted  with  green  and 
lamp-like  fire,  now  flashing  back  the  gold  of  the  declining  sun, 
now  fearfully  dyed  from  above  with  the  indistinguishable  images 
of  the  burning  clouds,  which  fall  upon  them  in  flakes  of  crimson 
and  scarlet,  and  give  to  the  reckless  waves  the  added  motion  of 
their  own  fiery  flying.  Purple  and  blue,  the  lurid  shadows  of  the 
hollow  breakers  are  cast  upon  the  mist  of  the  night,  which 
gathers  cold  and  low,  advancing  like  the  shadow  of  death  upon 
the  guilty*  ship  as  it  labors  amidst  the  lightning  of  the  sea,  its 
thin  masts  written  upon  the  sky  in  lines  of  blood,  girded  with 
condemnation  in  that  fearful  hue  which  signs  the  sky  with 
horror,  and  mixes  its  flaming  flood  with  the  sunlight, — and  cast 

♦She  is  a  slaver,  throwing  her  slaves  overboard.  The  near  sea  is 
encumbered  with  corpses. — (Ruskin's  Note) 


FORCE  57 

far  along  the  desolate  heave  of  the  sepulchral  waves,  incarnadines 
the  multitudinous  sea. — Ruskin 

18.  Two  powerful  nations  have  been  vitally  affected  by  natural 
calamities.  The  former  of  these  calamities  was  inevitable  by 
human  prudence,  and  uncontrollable  by  human  skill;  the  latter 
was  to  be  foreseen  at  any  distance  by  the  most  ignorant,  and  to 
be  avoided  by  the  most  wary.  I  mean  in  the  first  the  Plague  of 
the  Athenians;  in  the  second  the  starvation  of  the  French.  The 
first  happened  under  the  administration  of  a  man  transcen- 
dently  brave;  a  man  cautious,  temperate,  eloquent,  prompt, 
sagacious,  above  all  that  ever  guided  the  councils  and  animated 
the  energies  of  a  state;  the  second  under  a  soldier  of  fortune, 
expert  and  enthusiastic;  but  often  deficient  in  moral  courage, 
not  seldom  in  personal;  rude,  insolent,  rash,  rapacious;  valuing 
but  one  human  life  among  the  myriads  at  his  disposal,  and  that 
one  far  from  the  worthiest,  in  the  estimation  of  an  honester  and 
a  saner  mind. — Landor 

19.  The  work  of  the  Lombard  was  to  give  hardihood  and  sys- 
tem to  the  enervated  body  and  enfeebled  mind  of  Christendom; 
that  of  the  Arab  was  to  punish  idolatry,  and  to  proclaim  the 
spirituality  of  worship.  The  Lombard  covered  every  church 
which  he  built  with  the  sculptured  representations  of  bodily 
exercises — hunting  and  war.  The  Arab  banished  all  imagination 
of  creature  form  from  his  temples,  and  proclaimed  from  their 
minarets, ''  There  is  no  god  but  God."  Opposite  in  their  character 
and  mission,  alike  in  their  magnificence  of  energy,  they  came 
from  the  North  and  from  the  South,  the  glacier  torrent  and  the 
lava  stream;  they  met  and  contended  over  the  wreck  of  the 
Roman  empire;  and  the  very  center  of  the  struggle,  the  point  of 
pause  of  both,  the  dead  water  of  the  opposite  eddies  charged  with 
emba3^ed  fragments  of  the  Roman  wreck,  is  Venice. 

20.  Beyond  those  troops  of  ordered  arches  there  rises  a  vision 
out  of  the  earth,  and  all  the  great  square  seems  to  have  opened 
from  it  in  a  kind  of  awe,  that  we  may  see  it  far  away;  a  multitude 
of  pillars  and  white  domes,  clustering  into  a  long  low  pyramid  of 
colored  light;  a  treasure  heap,  it  seems,  partly  of  gold  and  partly 
of  opal  and  mother-of-pearl,  hollowed  beneath  into  five  great 
vaulted  porches,  ceiled  with  fair  mosaic  and  beset  with  sculpture 
of  alabaster,  clear  as  amber  and  delicate  as  ivory — sculpture 
fantastic  and  involved,  of  palm-leaves  and  lilies,  and  grapes  and 


58  RHETORIC 

pomegranates,  and  birds  clinging  and  fluttering  among  the 
branches,  all  twined  together  into  an  endless  network  of  buds, 
and  plumes;  and  in  the  midst  of  it  the  solemn  forms  of  angels, 
sceptered,  and  robed  to  the  feet,  and  leaning  to  each  other  across 
the  gates,  their  figures  indistinct  among  the  gleaming  of  the 
golden  ground  through  the  leaves  beside  them — interrupted 
and  dim,  like  the  morning  Hght  as  it  faded  back  among  the 
branches  of  Eden  when  first  its  gates  were  angel-guarded  long 
ago. — RusKiN 

21.  Two  men  I  honor,  and  no  third.  First,  the  toil  worn 
Craftsman  that  with  earth-made  implement  laboriously  con- 
quers the  Earth,  and  makes  her  man's.  Venerable  to  me  is  the 
hard  Hand;  crooked,  coarse;  wherein  notwithstanding  lies  a 
cunning  virtue,  indefeasibly  royal,  as  cf  the  Scepter  of  this 
Planet.  Venerable  too  is  the  rugged  face,  all  weather-tanned, 
besoiled,  with  its  rude  intelligence;  if  it  is  the  face  of  a  man  living 
manlike.  0,  but  the  more  venerable  for  thy  rudeness,  and  even 
because  we  must  pity  as  well  as  love  thee!  Hardly-entreated 
Brother!  For  us  was  thy  back  so  bent,  for  us  were  thy  straight 
limbs  and  fingers  so  deformed;  thou  wert  our  Conscript,  on  whom 
the  lot  fell,  and  fighting  our  battle  wert  so  marred.  For  in  thee 
too  lay  a  god-created  Form,  but  it  was  not  to  be  unfolded;  en- 
crusted must  it  stand  with  the  thick  adhesions  and  defacements 
of  labor;  and  thy  body,  like  thy  soul,  was  not  to  know  freedom. 
Yet  toil  on,  toil  on:  thou  art  in  thy  duty,  be  out  of  it  who  majy; 
thou  toilest  for  the  altogether  indispensable,  for  daily  bread. 

22.  A  second  man  I  honor,  and  still  more  highly:  Him  who  is 
seen  toiling  for  the  spiritually  indispensable;  not  dailj^  bread,  but 
bread  of  Life.  Is  not  he  too  in  his  duty,  endeavoring  towards 
inward  Harmony;  revealing  this,  by  act  or  by  word?  Through 
all  his  outward  endeavors,  be  they  high  or  low?  Highest  of  all, 
when  his  outward  and  his  inward  endeavor  are  one:  when  we  can 
call  hi-m  Artist;  not  earthly  Craftsman  onl}^,  but  inspired  Thinker, 
who  with  heaven-made  Implement  conquers  Heaven  for  us!  If 
the  poor  and  humble  toil  that  we  have  Food,  must  not  the  high 
and  glorious  toil  for  him  in  return,  that  he  have  Light,  have 
Guidance,  Freedom,  Immortality? — These  two,  in  all  their 
degree,  I  honor:  all  else  is  chaff  and  dust,  which  let  the  wind 
blow  whither  it  listeth. — Carlyle 

23.  The  splendid  naves  of  St.  Albans,  Westminster,  Canter- 


FORCE  59 

bury,  Winchester,  York,  Salisbury,  rise  heavenward;  the  towers 
of  Ely  reach  the  skies;  the  west  front  of  Lincoln,  adorned  with 
marvellous  carvings,  rears  itself  on  the  hill  above  the  town; 
Petersborbugh  opens  its  wide  bays,  deep  as  the  portals  of  French 
churches;  Durham,  a  heavy  and  massive  pile  built  by  knight- 
bishops,  overlooks  the  valley  of  the  Wear,  and  seems  a  divine 
fortress,  a  castle  erected  for  God. — Jusserand 

10  With  one  or  two  possible  exceptions,  the  illustrative 
paragraphs  found  in  exercise  14  under  Clearness  are  not 
only  clear  but  forceful.  Study  them  as  you  have  studied 
the  selections  above. 

11  Come  to  class  prepared  to  read  and  talk  about  brief 
selections,  taken  from  whatever  source  you  please,  which 
have  appealed  to  you  strongly. 

Note. — For  the  study  of  figures  of  speech  and  dramatic  devices  in 
general,  see  Appendix. 


CHAPTER  V 

BEAUTY 

A  word  employed  loosely  in  daily  speech  sometimes 

gains  a  more  precise  meaning  when  set  apart  for  technical 

use;  but  this  is  hardly  true  of  beauty,  the 

..     .  name  chosen  for  the  finest  and  rarest  of  all 

the  term 

literary  qualities.  It  is  vague  in  that  it  has, 
like  force,  an  unusually  broad  range  of  application. 
Tennyson's  Tears,  idle  tears  is  called  beautiful;  but  so  too 
are  many  poems  differing  from  this  little  song  as  widely  as 
a  Greek  temple  differs  from  the  field  flower.  It  is  vague, 
too,  in  that  what  seems  beautiful  to  one  may  please 
another  but  mildly  or  Hot  at  all.  Hardly,  then,  shall  we 
succeed  in  defining  with  exactness  this  subtle  quality; 
we  can  but  say  that  it  is  pleasure-giving,  that  its  appeal 
is  preeminently  through  the  emotions,  that  it  is  forcefulness 
refined  and  elevated.  Better  than  any  set  definition  will 
be  a  searching  of  our  own  natures  with  a  view  to  discover- 
ing what,  in  the  few  masterpieces  of  literature  that  cultured 
minds  have  pretty  generally  agreed  in  calling  beautiful, 
brings  us  a  pleasure  so  fine  and  rare  that  we  are  not  sat- 
isfied with  applying  to  it  the  term  force. 

No  mistake  will  be  made  in  affirming  first  of  all  that 
there  can  be  no  beauty  without  sincerity.     We  do  not 

like  pretence.     There  are  those  who  weep 
.  ^  when  they  are  not  sad  and  laugh  when  they 

are  not  gay — tricksters  who  manufacture 
sentiment;  there  are. cowards  who  employ  words  to  conceal 
feeling,  or  to  cover  poverty  of  thought  or  emotion  by  what 

60 


BEAUTY  61 

is  called  fine  writing.  Their  compositions  may  possess  a 
degree  of  force,  but  they  can  not  rise  to  the  high  level  of 
beauty.  Preferable  are  the  plain  words  of  plain  people, 
if  they  but  reflect  honest  natures.  A  friendly  letter  which 
rings  true,  even  though  from  an  illiterate  woodsman, 
claims  higher  rank  than  the  shams  of  brilliant  writers. 

A  second  essential  is  refinement,  or  a  high  degree  of 
aesthetic  and  moral  excellence.  Speech  may  be  forceful 
though  it  reflect  coarseness  and  ill-breeding, 
a  dull  sense  of  propriety,  lack  of  deference, 
lack  of  self-restraint,  and  much  else  that  offends  the 
sensitive  nature.  Beauty  implies  good  taste  and  native 
refinement.  And  speech  may  be  forceful  yet  immoral. 
Playwrights,  novelists,  poets  even,  may  use  their  genius 
unworthily  to  stir  the  lower  passions.  They  sometimes 
pander  to  our  sensual  natures.  So  clever,  so  witty,  so  fas- 
cinating are  they,  oftentimes,  that  we  are  for  the  moment 
blind  to  the  fact  that  no  amount  of  cleverness  can  sweeten 
into  beauty  whatever  lures  to  lower  levels.  Beauty  is 
pleasure-giving,  but  pleasure  should  be  unreprovable, 
free  from  taint.  The  truly  great  poets,  to  whom  we  turn 
instinctively  for  examples  of  beauty,  are  moral.  We  value 
them,  in  part  at  least,  because  they  lift  us  out  of  the  petty 
and  commonplace,  out  of  that  which  is  unworthily  low. 

A  third  element  contributing  to  beauty  is  truth,  the 
product  of  keen  perception  aided  by  sj^mpathy.  ''This 
author,"  we  sometimes  say,  *'is  evidently 
sincere,  refined,  moral,  and  he  expresses 
himself  with  commendable  force;  but  I  cannot  be- 
lieve that  he  has  found  the  truth."  Perhaps  his  fail- 
ure is  due  to  immaturity.  ''A  young  man  will  be  wiser 
by  and  by."  Or  it  may  be  attributed  to  narrow  expe- 
rience; he  has  wrongly  concluded  that  all  the  wide  world 
is  like  the  little  valley  where  he  dwells.    Prejudice,  from 


62  RHETORIC 

which  no  one  is  wholly  free,  may  have  distorted  his  vision. 
There  are  many,  many  reasons  why  those  who  are  sincere 
and  who  have  high  motives  fail  to  interpret  correctly  the 
varied  emotions — love,  joy,  hate,  grief,  indignation,  etc. — 
which  make  up  the  round  of  human  experience.  We  may 
be  able  to  say  of  their  words  How  forceful;  we  cannot  say 
How  true!  ^'No  pleasure,"  declares  a  Latin  poet,  "is 
comparable  to  standing  upon  the  vantage  ground  of  truth 
and  viewing  the  errors,  the  wanderings,  the  mists  and 
tempests  below."  Few  pleasures  are  greater,  it  may  be 
added,  than  that  derived  from  the  words  of  one  who  has 
gained  this  vantage  ground,  has  penetrated  the  mists  amid 
which  we  dwell,  and  with  sympathetically  keen  perception 
reveals  us  to  ourselves. 

But  sincerity,  refinement,  and  truth,  though  characteris- 
tic of  beauty,  are  not  peculiarly  literary  qualities.    They 
are  found  in  the  poems  of  Wordsworth,  and 

yet  they  may  be  as  truly  characteristic  of 

expression  -^  \     ^  •  i  u  i_  r 

our  next  door  neighbor,  whose  powers  of 

communication  through  language  are  little  better  than 
commonplace.  Beauty  in  literature  becomes  beauty 
through  artistic  expression. 

We  read  with  the  eye,  yet  the  main  approach  to  our 
emotions  is  through  the  ear.  One  essential  of  fine  ex- 
pression  is  melody.  Words  must  be  made 
to  sing.  The  poet  is  called  singer.  If  his 
lines  lack  melody,  they  are  not  poetry.  Shakespeare's 
Macbeth  has  been  called  "a  tempest  set  to  music."  But 
prose  writers  too  must  be  musicians.  Strong,  beauti- 
ful prose  is  not  metrical,  yet  it  is  rhythmical.  The  sensi- 
tive ear  detects  in  it  a  cadence  by  no  means  accidental. 
We  may  feel  sure  that  much  effort  has  been  expended  in 
avoiding  unpleasant  monotony  of  sounds,  irritating 
repetition,  harsh  combinations  of  consonants,  and  what- 


BEAUTY  63 

ever  else  may  offend  the  ear.  One  reason  why  the  King 
James  version  of  the  Bible  is  preferred  by  many  to  all 
other  versions  is  that  it  is  beautifully  melodious.  Yet 
it  is  in  poetry,  we  need  not  say,  that  the  charm  of  melody 
is  greatest.  It  is  a  dull  ear  which  is  not  captivated  by 
Coleridge's 

In  Xanadu  did  Kubla  Khan 

A  stately  pleasure  dome  decree, 

and  fails  to  catch  the  melody  in  Tennyson's  little  poem 
the  first  stanza  of  which  runs  as  follows: 

Where  Claribel  low-lieth 
The  breezes  pause  and  die. 
Letting  the  rose-leaves  fall; 
But  the  solemn  oak-tree  sigheth, 
Thick-leaved,  ambrosial, 
With  ancient  melody 
Of  an  inward  agony, 
Where  Claribel  low-lieth. 

We  can  imagine  that  one  unacquainted  with  the  English 
tongue  might  derive  pleasure  from  the  mere  sound  of  such 
lines, — indeed  from  any  masterpiece,  prose  or  poetry, 
characterized  by  easy,  varied,  sustained  melody. 

Closely  akin  to  this  first  essential  is  harmony.  By  har- 
mony is  meant  an  appropriate  correspondence  between 
cadence  and  rhythm  on  the  one  hand  and 
the  character  and  spirit  of  what  is  ex- 
pressed on  the  other  hand.  The  happy  swing  of  wedding 
song  ill  fits  the  funeral  march.  Indignation  cannot  be 
expressed  trippingly.  "Avenge  O  Lord  thy  slaughtered 
saints,"  sings  Milton  in  one  poem;  "  Grate  on  their  scrannel 
pipes  of  wretched  straw"  in  a  second;  "Come,  and  trip 
it  as  ye  go"  in  a  third.  In  each  line  sound  is  wedded  to 
sense.  But  the  term  harmony  may  be  employed  in  still 
another  way.    Just  as  colors  or  sounds  may  be  combined 


64  RHETORIC 

inharmoniously,  so  thoughts  may  be  intermingled  incon- 
gruously. Some  little  item,  it  may  be  but  an  inappropriate 
figure  of  speech,  or  a  coarse  word  where  all  else  is  refined, 
is  enough  to  jar  our  sensibilities,  which  demand  that  every- 
thing shall  be  "in  keeping."  An  illustration  of  such  a 
discord  is  found  in  one  of  Wordsworth's  poems,  otherwise 
beautiful.  She  was  a  phantom  of  delight.  Note  the  second 
line  in  this  concluding  stanza: 

And  now  I  see  with  eye  serene 
The  very  pulse  of  the  machine : 
A  being  breathing  thoughtful  breath, 
A  traveller  between  life  and  death; 
The  reason  firm,  the  temperate  will. 
Endurance,  foresight,  strength,  and  skill; 
A  perfect  Woman,  nobly  planned, 
To  warn,  to  comfort,  and  command; 
And  yet  a  Spirit  still,  and  bright 
With  something  of  angelic  light. 

To  compare  perfect  womanhood  to  a  machine  is  to  sin 
against  harmonj^ 

A  third  essential  is  symmetry,  the  result  of  a  fine  sense 
of  proportion  and  proper  arrangement.  When  nothing 
foreign  intrudes,  when  nothing  needed  is 
wanting,  when  part  is  nicely  proportioned 
to  part  and  all  combines  to  make  up  a  unified  whole, 
then  symmetry  is  perfect.  But  how  rarely  do  we  find 
it!  For  true  sense  of  proportion,  artistic  intuition,  is 
possessed  by  but  few.  When  the  ungifted  attempt  to 
express  themselves,  that  which  is  in  mind  fails  to  crystalize 
symmetrically;  it  comes  forth  misshapen,  un-unified,  in- 
coherent, and  with  emphasis  unskilfully  placed.  Beauty, 
that  is  to  say,  calls  for  design  or  pattern.  The  design  of 
story  or  play  or  essay  or  lyric  may  be  very  simple;  but 
pattern  or  scheme  of  some  kind  is  highly  essential. 


BEAUTY  65 

Sincerity,  refinement,  truth;  melody,  harmony,  sym- 
metry; what  more  can  we  think  of  which  contributes  to 
our   pleasure  when   reading   acknowledged  . 

masterpieces?  The  very  heart  of  the  mat- 
ter is  reached  in  the  word  imagination.  Through 
sympathetic  imagination  the  writer  puts  himself  in  the 
place  of  others,  sharing  understandingly  the  emotions  of 
his  fellow  men,  and  is  able  to  picture  humanity  truthfully. 
Through  constructive  imagination  the  story-teller  builds 
up  his  plot  out  of  incidents  which  may  never  have  hap- 
pened, yet  so  real,  so  true  to  life  are  they,  that  all  seems 
natural.  Through  creative  imagination  characters  are 
called  into  being  so  like  to  real  people  that  we  follow  their 
acts  and  words,  and  enter  into  their  fancied  emotions, 
with  the  keenest  interest — laugh  with  them,  weep  with 
them,  rejoice  over  their  successes  and  share  sympathet- 
ically their  reverses.  It  is  through  imagination  too,  of 
the  inventive  kind,  that  new  similes  and  metaphors  are 
discovered,  new  ways  of  stating  familiar  truths,  new 
melodies  and  harmonies.  All  writers  of  note  are  explorers 
in  the  wide  realm  of  words,  successful  whenever  they 
discover  what  is  new.  Their  gifts  are  denied  to  most  of  us, 
3^et  we  take  the  keenest  pleasure  in  their  triumph,  whether 
it  be  a  great  story  like  that  of  Hamlet,  or  the  effective 
use  of  a  connotative  word. 

But  beauty,  after  all,  is  too  subtle  for  analysis.     No 

enumeration  of  contributing  elements,  such  as  we  have 

attempted,  can  satisfy.    There  are  nameless 

qualities,   nameless   combinations   of   qual-      ^^^  ess 
.'.  ,  .  T  .,  ,  qualities 

ities,  which  escape  us,  until  we  are  almost 

ready  to  adopt  the  old  belief  that  beauty  is  but  another 

name  for  "divine  fire." 

Perhaps  the  following  diagram  will  serve  to  fix  in  mind 

the  substance  of  this  chapter: 


66 


RHETORIC 


'  The  lists  found  below  of  terms  related  to  beautj^  are  by 
no  means  complete,  and  some,  perhaps,  belong  quite  as 
properly  to  clearness  or  force;  for  purity, 
clearness,  and  force  contribute  to  beaut}^ 
and  all  four  qualities  shade  into  each  other.  There  are 
no  well  defined  dividing  lines. 


Terminology 


I  Sincere,    natural,    genuine,   artless, 

spontaneous,  naive. 
II  Grave,    serious,    candid,    conscien- 
tious, frank,  sjonpathetic. 

III  Temperate,  dignified,  noble,  stately, 

magnificent,  grand,  heroic,  ex- 
alted, imposing,  impassioned,  sus- 
tained, eloquent,  sublime. 

IV  Musical,     melodious,     harmonious, 

rhythmical,  smooth,  sonorous, 
sweet,  tuneful,  hlting. 


BEAUTY  67 

V  Airy,  dainty,  delicate,  graceful,  ele- 
gant,   finished,    refined,    courtly, 
polished,  chaste. 
VI  Inharmonious,  discordant,  clashing, 

jingling. 
VII  Coarse,  blunt,  low,  vulgar,  sensual, 

voluptuous. 
VIII  Elaborate,     flowery,     embroidered, 
flashy,  gaudy,  showy,  tawdry. 
IX  Biting,  cynical,  fawning,  waspish. 

EXERCISES 

1  Many  of  the  selections  found  in  the  exercises  accom- 
panying the  chapters  on  Clearness  and  Force  are,  wholly 
or  in  part,  examples  of  the  beautiful.  Find  them,  and  try 
to  discover,  in  regard  to  each  passage,  wherein  its  beauty 
hes. 

2  Bring  to  class  brief  selections,  preferably  prose,  which 
seem  to  you  to  be  unusually  beautiful.  Defend  your 
choice. 

3  Find  passages  of  great  beauty  in  the  Old  Testament. 

4  Do  you  think  it  possible  for  one  to  write  prose  deserv- 
ing the  epithet  beautiful,  by  conscious  imitation  of  the 
works  of  great  writers?  Is  it  a  good  plan,  when  writing, 
to  interlard  brief  passages  from  the  poets?  Is  there  danger 
in  trying  to  write  beautiful  prose — that  is,  should  we  leave 
beauty  for  the  poets  to  express?  Is  it  correct  to  say  that 
nothing  which  is  untrue  can  be  beautiful?  In  your  estima- 
tion, which  is  the  most  important  element  contributing  to 
beauty:  the  outward  dress  of  thought  (what  is  commonly 
called  style);  the  thought,  fancy,  or  feeling  expressed;  the 
character  and  personality  of  the  writer? 


68  RHETORIC 

5  Study  the  following  quotations,  each  of  which  casts  a 
ray  of  light  on  beauty.  Which  of  them,  if  any,  do  you  fail 
to  understand? 

Loveliness 
Needs  not  the  foreign  aid  of  ornament, 
But  is,  when  unadorn'd,  adorn'd  the  most. — Thomson 

Thoughtless  of  beauty,  she  was  beauty's  self. — Thomson 

The  beautiful  rests  on  the  foundations  of  the  necessary. 

— Emerson 

Plain  truth  needs  no  flowers  of  speech. — Horace 

The  perfection  of  art  is  to  conceal  art. — Quintilian 

True  beauty  is  never  divorced  from  utihty. — Quintilian 

Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty. — Keats 

Note. — Beauty  is  best  studied,  perhaps,  in  connection  with  poetry. 
For  additional  exercises,  see  Chapter  xix. 


CHAPTER  VI 
STYLE 

The  steel  pen  in  common  use  today  was  unknown  to  the 
ancients,  the  nearest  approach  to  it  being  a  bone  or  metal 
instrument,  in  shape  resembhng  a  sharpened 
pencil,  with  which  the  scribe  wrote  on  tab-    ^  , 

lets  thinly  coated  with  wax.  This  instrument 
was  called  a  stylus,  and  from  stylus  is  derived  the  modern 
word  style.  It  is  well  to  keep  this  derivation  in  mind, 
together  with  the  pleasing  fiction  suggested  by  it;  namely, 
that  authors  differ  one  from  another  because  no  two  em- 
ploy the  same  pen. 

The  meaning  of  the  word  as  applied  to  articles  of  wearing 
apparel,  or  furniture,  or  architecture  is  not  at  all  difficult 
to  comprehend;  we  employ  the  expression 
freely  and  in  its  proper  sense.     When  em-  . 

ployed  as  a  rhetorical  term,  its  meaning  is 
not  so  clear-cut;  it  may  convey  a  number  of  different  im- 
pressions, owing  to  certain  misconceptions.  Perhaps  the 
most  common  misconception  is  that  only  authors  of  note 
possess  style.  But  since  style  means  almost  the  same 
thing  as  manner  or  individuality,  it  follows  that  everyone 
possesses  it,  the  school-boy  as  truly  as  the  great  Shakes- 
peare. It  is  discernible  in  conversation,  in  familiar  let- 
ters, in  school  compositions,  as  well,  as  in  the  prose  and 
poetry  of  the  masters;  for  everyone  possesses  something 
of  individuality  and  this  individuality  is  manifest  when- 
ever he  speaks  or  writes.  One  may  not  have  a  good  style, 
and  through  imitation  of  others,  or  through  suppression 


70  RHETORIC 

due  to  shame  or  reserve,  may  for  a  time  conceal  his  real 
nature — disguise  himself;  yet  style  of  some  sort,  genuine 
or  artificial,  he  continues  to  have. 

A  second  misconception  is  that  style  is  something  exter- 
nal, to  be  put  on  as  one  puts  on  a  garment,  and  to  be 
changed  at  will  much  as  we  slip  from  a  blue 

misconception    ^^^^  ^^  ^  ^^^^'  ^^^^  ^^  ^^^  *^  ^^  merely  with 
the  manner  of  expression,  or  the  skill  with 

which  words  are  employed.  This  idea  of  style  as  the  gar- 
ment of  thought  is  directly  opposed  to  a  famous  and  gen- 
erally accepted  definition  which  states  that  style  is  the  man 
himself.  By  this  is  meant  that  all  of  the  man — his  mind, 
his  heart,  his  spirit,  no  less  than  his  literary  skill — goes 
toward  the  making  of  his  style. 

From  this  conception  come  two  very  wholesome  truths. 
Milton  expresses  one  of  these  when  he  asserts  that  a  man 

must  be  a  poem  before  he  can  write  one,  a 
some  truths       thought  also  conveyed  in  the  familiar  adage, 

The  stream  cannot  rise  higher  than  the 
fountain  source.  Words,  whether  written  or  spoken,  re- 
veal but  what  we  are;  sooner  or  later  the  good  and  the  bad 
in  us,  the  strength  and  the  weakness,  come  to  the  light. 
The  second  truth,  closely  allied  to  the  one  just  stated,  is 
that  one  cannot  become  a  great  writer  through  '^  catching 
the  trick"  from  others — through  imitating  the  externals 
of  style.  Studjdng  the  art  of  others  is  doubtless  profitable 
in  some  measure,  since  it  enables  us  to  correct  faults  and 
discover  effective  ways  of  expression.  Intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  the  works  of  the  masters  is  helpful  in  so  far  as  it 
supplies  the  mind  with  noble  thoughts  and  stimulates  the 
emotions,  just  as  character  is  formed  through  association 
with  those  who  are  refined.  But  servile  imitation  of  the 
manners  of  others  is  as  artificial  in  composition  as  in 
society.    Putting  on  a  soldier's  uniform  and  spicing  one's 


STYLE  '      71 

speech  with  a  few  military  terms  will  not  make  one  a  brave 
warrior. 

Nationality  is  one  of  the  larger  factors  contributing 
to  style.  For  each  nation  has  its  peculiar  conceptions 
of  right  and  wrong,  conceptions  of  what  is 

beautiful  and  what  is  ugly,  ideals  traceable  to    .  ^  l°f  ^  ^  ^ 

.  in  style 

its  history  and  its  environment.  If  all  Ger- 
man literature  could  be  condensed  into  a  single  volume, 
all  French  literature  into  a  second,  all  English  into  a  third, 
and  so  on  throughout  the  realm  of  letters,  it  would  be 
found  that  though  these  volumes  contained  much  in  com- 
mon, yet  each  would  differ  from  the  others  not  alone  in 
language  but  in  subject  matter,  in  thought  and  temper- 
ament and  art.  Racial  traits,  that  is  to  say,  and  national 
ideals,  are  reflected  in  literature.  One  reason  why  English 
literature  is  at  once  difficult  and  exceedingly  interesting 
to  study  is  that  the  English  are  not  only  a  mixed  people, 
the  combined  product  of  several  races,  but  from  time 
to  time  they  have  been  strongly  influenced  by  other 
nations. 

Style  is  also  a  matter  of  time  influence.    Nations  grow, 
and  as  they  develop  from  age  to  age,  their  literatures 
change.     The   literature   of   King  Alfred's 
day  differs  from  that  of  Chaucer's  genera-    .  "^®  ®  ®"^®° 
tion,  and  the  works  of  Chaucer  differ  from 
those   of   Shakespeare   and   Milton.     The   Queen  Anne 
writers  are  in  a  class  by  themselves,  possessing  marked 
characteristics;  and  so  too  are  the  writers  of  Queen  Vic- 
toria's day.    No  author,  not  even  one  so  great  as  Shakes- 
peare, is  wholly  uninfluenced  by  the  times  in  which  he 
lives.    Each  individual  is  in  part  the  product  of  the  race 
to  which  he  belongs  and  in  part  the  product  of  his  day 
and  generation.    From  these  influences  he  cannot  wholly 
escape;  they  are  betrayed  in  his  words,  oral  and  written. 


72  RHETORIC 

Style  is  the  product  not  only  of  race  or  nationality  and 

of  time,  but  of  strong  personal  influence.    We  know  how 

^  ,     ,  it   is   in   school  life — how   a   sinde   strone; 

Schools  ,.,  1        u  r       • 

personality,    a    popular    boy    oi    vigorous 

character,  will  sway  his  mates  till  they,  through  con- 
scious or  unconscious  imitation,  become  in  some  ways 
like  him.  So  in  literature  a  writer  often  becomes  the  center 
of  a  ''school"  of  authors,  all  influenced  strongly  by  their 
leader.  Just  as  English  and  French  and  Italian  are  used 
to  describe  national  styles,  and  such  terms  as  Queen  Anne, 
Elizabethan,  and  Victorian  to  describe  the  style  common 
to  a  given  age  in  a  nation's  life,  so  the  adjectives  Words- 
worthian  and  Byronic  and  Hawthornesque  are  employed 
to  describe  works  written  by  Wordsworth  or  Byron  or 
Hawthorne  or  their  followers. 

And  yet,  powerful  though  these  larger  influences  are, 
and  for  the  most  part  unescapable,  we  all  retain  a  con- 
Individuality  siderable  degree  of  individuality.  Ancestry, 
strongest  home  life,  natural  surroundings,  associates, 

factor  education,  occupation — how  different  are  the 

forces,  some  of  our  own  choosing,  some  far  beyond  our  con- 
trol, that  shape  us.  No  two  individuals  can  be  alike.  The 
surest  evidence  of  strong  character  is  ability  to  retain 
individuality  regardless  of  conditions  which  tend  to  destroy 
it.  The  great  secret  of  good  stjde  rests  in  a  willingness  to 
express  ourselves,  to  be  ourselves  whenever  we  speak  or 
write.  This  does  not  mean  that  we  should  neglect  op- 
portunities for  improvement  lest  through  much  study  or 
through  taking  great  pains  in  composition  we  lose  our 
individuality;  for  even  genius  needs  cultivation  or  it  grows 
rank  and  ungainly.  It  means,  rather,  that  timidity  and 
servile  imitation  are  fatal  to  effective  expression. 

Purity,  clearness,  force,  and  beauty  are  the  fundamental 
qualities  of  good  style.    Attention  has  been  called  to  the 


STYLE  73 

fact  that  these  four  terms,  especially  the  last  two,  are  so 

broad  in  their  application  that  they  are  not  convenient 

to  use  in  characterizing  masterpieces.    More 

,    ,  .n  J.  I,     X  Fundamental 

convenient,  because  specinc,  are  the  terms         ... 

which  in  earlier  chapters  are  grouped  about 

clearness,  force,  and  beauty.     They  form,  however,  but 

a  small  fraction  of  the  vocabulary  of  criticism,  which 

contains  literally  thousands  of  terms.    For  the  most  part 

they  are  not  purely  technical,  but  such  as  are  employed 

commonly  in  talking  about  men  and  women.    Not  a  few 

focus  attention  upon  the  effect  produced  upon  reader  or 

listener.    Fascinating,  bewildering,  inspiring,  and  thrilling 

are  examples  of  this  sort.    Others  are  concerned  with  the 

art  of  composition,  such  as  graphic,  dramatic,  melodious. 

A  very  large  number  are  devoted  to  the  author's  individ- 

uahty,  as  keen,  dignified,  eccentric,  cheerful. 

It  is  not  advisable  to  memorize  lists  of  critical  terms; 

as  a  rule  the  difficulty  lies  in  discovering  what,  in  a  given 

masterpiece,  produces  its  charm  and  what 

,  J.     ,  XI,       j-u        •       Non-technical 

perchance  may  displease  us,  rather  than  m    ,         , 

finding  terms  to  express  our  likes  and  dis- 
likes. There  is  a  certain  advantage,  however,  in  having  a 
few  lists  of  terms  convenient  for  ready  reference,  partly  be- 
cause precisely  the  right  adjective  will  not  always  come  to 
mind  when  desired,  and  partly  because  the  young  student 
needs  to  be  impressed,  as  he  is  likely  to  be  if  he  examines 
the  lists  with  care,  with  the  thought  that  since  books  are 
but  men  and  women  revealed  through  their  words,  we 
require,  when  talking  about  masterpieces,  few  terms  not 
found  in  the  vocabulary  of  common,  daily  life.  Literature 
at  its  best  is  not  technical  and  complex  but  very  simple, 
and  such  should  be  the  terms  we  Qmploy  when  talking 
about  it. 

The  diagram  below  is  designed  not  only  to  fix  in  memory 


74 


RHETORIC 


the  fundamental  qualities  of  style,  but  to  show  the  inter- 
dependence of  these  qualities.  Purity  is  represented  as 
the  broad  foundation  of  the  higher  qualities.  Clearness 
and  Force  are  placed  side  by  side  because  usually  found 
together.  One  hesitates  to  declare  that  either  is  more 
important  than  the  other.  But  Beauty,  though  depend- 
ent on  all  the  lower  qualities — based  upon  them,  surely 
deserves  to  stand  highest. 


BEAUTY 


CLEARNESS 


FORCE 


PURITY 


CHAPTER  VII 
NARRATION 

The  technical  name  for  all  connected  communication 
of  thought  by  means  of  words — all  composition,  that  is, 
whether  oral  or  written — is  discourse.  There  ■-.-.. 
are  four  forms  of  discourse:  narration,  de- 
scription, exposition,  and  argument.  The  first  of  these 
is  the  story-telling  form.  It  includes  all  compositions 
which  give,  in  orderly  fashion,  the  particulars  of  an 
event  or  a  series  of  events.  The  brief  accounts  we  give 
one  another  of  our  happenings  from  day  to  day  are 
narratives;  so  too  are  the  news  items  furnished  by  the 
daily  papers.  Biographies,  histories,  and  books  of  travel 
are  made  up  largely  of  narration;  and  anecdotes,  short 
stories,  novels,  and  plays  are  conspicuous  examples. 

In  the  chapters  on  purity,  clearness,  force,  and  beauty 
we  have  considered  a  number  of  ways  in  w^hich  composi- 
tions may  be  made  effective,  with  but  little 
regard  to  whether  these  compositions  are    ^.  ^°^®  ° 
narration  or  some  other  form  of  discourse. 
Later  chapters  have  something  to  say  about  the  art  of 
composition  as  found  in  such  important  literary  forms  of 
narration  as  prose  fiction  and  drama.    The  purpose  of  this 
chapter  is  to  bring  together  a  few  practical  suggestions 
in  regard  to  the  more  common,  simpler  forms  of  narrations 
such  as  all  of  us  employ  day  by  day. 

First  suggestion:  Do  not  waste  time  in  unnecessary  prelim- 
inaries. Notice  the  word  unnecessary.  Usually  some  ac- 
count of  when  and  where  the  incidents  occur  is  desirable, 

75 


76  RHETORIC 

some  explanation  of  attending  circumstances;  but  such 

preliminaries  should  be  brief.    For  example,  if  the  purpose 

of  a  narrative  is  to  tell  how  you  caught  a 

XJllI16C6SS3,rv 

Dreliminaries  ^^^^^'  ^^  ^^  unquestionably  unwise  to  devote 
merely  the  last  of  six  paragraphs  to  the 
actual  struggle  between  you  and  the  fish.  What  happens 
is  the  important  thing  to  be  told,  and  the  most  interesting 
thing;  therefore  get  through  with  preliminary  explanation 
as  quickly  as  possible. 

Second  suggestion:  Follow  a  chronological  sequence;  that 
is,  tell  of  the  incidents  in  the  order  of  their  occurrence.  This 
Following  is  sometimes  a  difficult  matter,  especially 

chronological  when  many  things  have  happened  in  quick 
o^^^^  succession,    or   apparentl}^    "all    at   once." 

Moreover  the  memory  is  treacherous  and  the  mind  does 
not  always  keep  things  arranged  in  their  proper  sequence. 
Finally,  through  excitement,  or  embarrassment,  or  haste ^ 
the  narrator  becomes  ''all  mixed  up,"  or  incoherent.  It 
is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  a  good  way  to  avoid  in- 
coherency  when  writing  a  narrative  is  first  to  make  out 
a  topical  plan  and  then  study  it  carefully  to  see  if  each 
item  is  in  its  proper  place. 

Third  suggestion:  Make  the  narrative  complete,  omitting 
no  essential  detail.  This  refers  not  only  to  incidents  but 
Making  to  explanations.    What  happened  may  have 

narrative  made  a  deep  impression  on  the  narrator's 

complete  mind;  he  was  present,  it  may  be,  and  saw  it 

all — perhaps  was  one  of  the  actors.  Yet  he  may  not  re- 
alize how  much  must  be  explained  in  order  that  others  may 
have  sufficient  material  out  of  which  to  construct  mind- 
pictures,  or  images.  He  does  not  realize  that  he  must  be 
eyes,  ears,  and  all  the  other  senses  for  those  to  whom  he 
tells  his  story.  That  this  third  suggestion  is  needed  is  well 
proved  by  the  fact  that  often  when  told  of  an  accident, 


NARRATION  77 

for  example,  we  repeatedly  interrupt  the  informant  with 
questions — questions  asked  because  our  minds,  busily  em- 
ployed trying  to  form  correct  pictures  of  what  happened, 
find  that  they  lack  sufficient  material.  It  is  an  excellent 
plan,  therefore,  when  writing  a  narrative,  to  pause  fre- 
quently and  ask.  Am  I  giving  a  sufficient  number  of  par- 
ticulars? Will  my  readers  real-ize  this  series  of  incidents 
and  see  plainly  what  occurred? 

Fourth  suggestion:  Do  not  bring  in  irrelevant  matter.    In 
other  words,  preserve  unity.    How  long  it  takes  the  un- 
skilled  yet   loquacious   narrator   to   tell   of    Excluding 
some  simple  occurrence!     He  digresses;  he    irrelevant 
imparts  unnecessary  information;  he  com-    matter 
bines  two  or  three  stories,  it  may  be,  unable  to  keep  in 
mind  the  one  important  task  before  him.     A  narrative 
should  move  with  reasonable  rapidity   and   directness, 
whether  it  be  a  simple  item  of  news  or  a  long  romance. 

Fifth  suggestion:  Try  to  keep  up  the  suspense.     Keep 

something  back,  if  possible,  that  the  reader  or  listener  may 

be  led  on  and  on,  ever  expecting  something 

new,  till  a  climax,  with  its  attendant  moment         ,     , , 

»  .  .  -n       '  c         •     •  preferable 

of  surprise  and  its  gratification  of  curiosity, 

has  been  reached.  At  first  thought,  this  precept  may  seem 
more  appropriate  for  writers  of  fiction  than  for  those  whose 
main  purpose  is  to  picture  events  faithfully;  yet  a  little 
practice  will  show  that  even  in  reporting  the  common 
incidents  of  every-day  life  it  is  possible  to  give  our  nar- 
ratives something  of  dramatic  structure. 

Sixth  suggestion:  For  vividness,  introduce  dialogue  when 
possible.    We  like  to  hear  others  talk.    What  did  he  say? 
is  a  question  we  are  all  fond  of  asking. 
We  prefer  novels  in  which  there  are  many 
pages  of  dialogue;  for  dialogue  makes  the  narrative  seem 
real,  brings  us  nearer  to  the  characters.    And  since  what 


78  RHETORIC 

is  said  receives  coloring  from  the  manner  in  which  it 
is  said,  the  skilled  narrator  does  not  neglect  to  slip  in 
here  and  there  little  phrases  indicating  tone  of  voice, 
facial  expression,  gestures — whatever  reveals  the  emotions 
and  the  character  of  those  whose  conversation  he  is  report- 
ing. After  all,  our  interest  in  most  narratives  lies  ciuite 
as  much  in  what  they  reveal  of  human  emotion  as  in  the 
things  that  happen — the  plot,  as  it  is  called  in  story- 
telling. 

Seventh  suggestion:  Stop  when  the  end  of  the  narrative 

proper  is  reached.    Do  not  go  on  retelling;  when  the  last 

important  particular  has  been  made  clear, 

the  task  is  done,  and  nothing  is  to  be  gained 

by  tarrying. 

EXERCISES 

1  Relate  orally  some  incident  or  series  of  incidents  from 
history,  limiting  the  account  to  five  or  ten  minutes.  Lead 
up  to  the  narrative  proper  through  clear,  brief  explanation 
of  attending  circumstances.  Here  are  a  few  suggestive 
titles: 

The  battle  at  Thermopylae.  The  sack  of  Rome  by  Alaric. 
The  Children's  Crusade.  The  defeat  of  the  Spanish  Armada. 
The  first  voyage  of  Columbus.  Wat  Tyler's  Rebellion.  The 
battle  of  Bannockburn.  The  battle  of  Bunker  Hill.  The 
winter  at  Valley  Forge.  The  capture  of  Ticonderoga.  An 
incident  of  the  Civil  war.  An  incident  in  the  war  with  Spain. 
An  incident  in  the  Russo-Japanese  war. 

2  Relate  orally  some  incident  or  series  of  incidents  from 
the  history  of  your  state;  or  better  still,  give  a  brief  chapter 
from  the  early  history  of  your  town;  or  best  of  all,  give 
some  interesting  bit  of  unrecorded  history  having  to  do 
with  your  neighborhood.  Try  to  make  the  narrative  com- 
plete, well  proportioned,  clear.  Limit  the  account  to  five 
or  ten  minutes. 


NARRATION  79 

3  Relate,  orally  or  in  writing,  an  incident  or  series  of 
incidents  from  your  family  history — an  oft  told  true  tale 
concerning  your  early  ancestors,  or  concerning  your  father 
or  mother,  or  concerning  yourself.  Enliven  the  narrative, 
if  you  can,  by  introducing  dialogue. 

4  In  the  same  manner  relate,  orally  or  in  writing,  an 
incident  from  your  school  life — some  event,  perhaps,  which 
at  the  time  seemed  of  great  moment  and  stirred  you 
deeply,  though  now  you  can  smile  at  it  or  at  least  view  it 
calmly.  Try  to  be  graphic;  tell  not  only  what  happened, 
but  what  emotions  the  actors  experienced.  Here  are  a  few 
suggestive  titles: 

Because  I  lost  my  temper.  How  one  thing  led  to  another. 
A  triumph.  Shielding  a  culprit.  All  due  to  a  misunderstanding. 
An  undeserved  punishment.  Pulling  a  victory  out  of  defeat. 
Pride  had  a  fall.  A  bitter  disappointment.  The  fire  drill.  Why 
I  was  unprepared.    A  fair  catch. 

5  Find  and  bring  to  class  a  good  piece  of  newspaper 
reporting.  Be  prepared  to  read  it  and  point  out  its  com- 
mendable qualities. 

6  Find  and  bring  to  class  a  poor  piece  of  newspaper  re- 
porting. Be  prepared  to  read  it  and  point  out  its  de- 
ficiencies. 

7  Prepare  carefully  a  criticism  of  the  news  department 
of  the  school  journal.  Bear  in  mind  that  a  critic  should 
point  out  the  good  as  well  as  the  bad,  and  to  be  helpful 
should  make  specific  suggestions  leading  to  betterment. 

8  Write,  as  if  for  publication  in  a  newspaper  or  a  school 
journal,  an  account  of  some  athletic  contest,  or  a  meeting 
of  a  school  club,  or  an  incident  of  still  wider  interest. 
Consider  carefully  what  the  public  will  care  to  be  told  and 


80  RHETORIC 

in  what  order  the  items  should  be  presented.    Limit  the 
account  to  one-third  of  a  newspaper  column. 

9  Condense  the  foregoing  account  to  about  one  hundred 
words,  trying  to  retain  all  essentials.' 

10  Come  to  class  prepared  to  retell  one  of  the  best  short 
stories  you  have  read  during  the  past  three  months,  and  to 
point  out  what  are  to  you  the  attractive  features.  Try  to 
select  a  narrative  that  is  appropriate  for  classroom. 

11  Give,  orally,  a  condensed  account  of  a  play  that  you 
have  witnessed  recently,  confining  yourself  somewhat 
closely  to  the  bare  plot. 

12  Write  a  summary  by  scenes  of  one  act  of  a  play  read 
in  school.    Employ  the  present  tense. 

13  Come  to  class  prepared  to  read  two  or  three  pages  of 
spirited  narrative  from  a  standard  novel.  Preface  the 
reading  with  such  explanation  of  circumstances  as  may  be 
necessary. 

14  Write  a  letter  to  a  classmate  who,  you  may  imagine, 
is  recovering  from  an  illness,  telling  all  that  happened  in 
school  yesterday,  making  the  account  as  complete  as  you 
can  without  including  such  matters  as  the  classmate's 
imagination  can  picture  well  enough  withouft  the  aid  of 
your  letter.  That  is,  tell  him  all  that  you  think  he  will  care 
to  know. 

15  Write  a  letter,  this  time  to  a  studious  classmate, 
telling  minutely  all  that  was  done  in  some  one  of  yester- 
day's recitations. 

16  Write  a  letter  to  your  parents,  who  you  may  imagine 
are  away  from  home,  telling  of  some  important  happening, 
real  or  imaginary.    Here  are  suggestive  titles: 


NARRATION  81 

Unexpected  company.  Trouble  with  the  plumbing.  Losing 
and  finding  the  dog.  Trouble  with  the  neighbor's  children.  A 
scare.  A  book  agent.  A  church  entertainment.  A  stroke  of 
business.  An  agreeable  surprise.  The  maid  has  left;  no  notice 
given. 

17  Imagining  that  something  of  great  importance  has 
happened  during  the  absence  of  your  parents,  (a)  compose 
a  telegram  reporting  it,  (b)  write  a  letter  giving  details, 
(c)  repeat  the  conversation  (imaginary)  which  grew  out  of 
it  on  your  parents'  return. 

18  Imagining  that  a  boy  has  got  into  trouble  at  school, 
give  (a)  the  boy's  account  of  it  as  reported  to  his  mother, 

(b)  the  teacher's  account  of  it  as  given  to  her  principal, 

(c)  the  mother's  account  as  given  to  a  neighbor.   ' 

19  Write  a  long  paragraph  beginning  Last  Saturday  was 
one  of  my  busiest  days.  Take  particular  pains  to  make 
skilful  transitions,  introducing  phrases  and  clauses  to  help 
the  reader  in  keeping  track  of  passing  time. 

20  Make  a  topical  plan  of  an  account  of  a  vacation  trip, 
indicating  in  some  way  the  approximate  number  of  words 
to  be  devoted  to  each  topic. 

21  Write  an  account  of  some  party  or  entertainment, 
introducing  here  and  there  bits  of  rapid  description  and 
snatches  of  conversation. 

22  Report  in  writing  a  dialogue — a  real  one — repeating 
as  accurately  as  you  can  the  words  spoken. 

23  Report  in  writing  either  the  same  dialogue  or  an- 
other, introducing  little  phrases  devoted  to  facial  expres- 
sion, gestures,  tone  of  voice,  etc. 

24  Invent  a  dialogue  which  shall  reveal  indirectly  the 
character  of  each  speaker. 


82  RHETORIC 

25  Invent  a  dialogue  which  imparts,  indirectly,  in- 
formation concerning  place,  time,  the  weather,  the  ap- 
pearance of  each  speaker,  etc. 

26  Write  a  short  story  to  which  you  can  give  the  title 
A  scrap  of  brown  paper.  Show  that  the  innocent  scrap 
caused  one  happening,  this  a  second,  the  second  a  third, 
and  so  on  till  a  climax,  pathetic  or  humorous,  was  reached. 
For  the  scrap  of  paper  you  may  substitute  any  other  little 
object,  or  a  chance  word,  or  a  little  error  in  judgment,  or 
a  moment  of  forgetfulness. 

27  Invent  a  story  giving  the  mind-workings  of  a  small 
boy,  a  thief,  a  pupil,  or  a  tramp.  Try  to  show  how  one 
thought  led  to  another  and  finally  to  action  which  culmin- 
ated in  comedy  or  tragedy. 

28  Describe  as  vividly  as  you  can  a  purely  imaginary 
-contest.  Let  it  be  between  two  swimmers,  between  a 
trout  and  a  fisherman,  two  golfers,  an  even  temper  and  a 
ruffled  temper,  or  what  you  please.  The  one  thing  essen- 
tial is  that  you  make  the  reader  feel  the  struggle,  expe- 
rience the  sensations  of  the  contestants. 

29  Give  an  absolutely  accurate  account  of  some  in- 
cident, preferably  an  accident  that  you  have  witnessed, 
using  the  care  that  you  would  feel  necessary  were  you  fac- 
ing a  jury,  with  the  fate  of  a  human  being  hanging  on  your 
words. 


CHAPTER  VIII 
DESCRIPTION 

Description  is  commonly  defined  as  the  picture-giving, 
image-making  form  of  discourse,  and  is  often  likened  to 
painting  and  sculpture.  A  little  thought,  j.  ^  ... 
however,  will  serve  to  show  that  the  writer 
of  description  has  a  wider  range  than  either  painter 
or  sculptor,  for  he  may  record  impressions  made  by 
all  five  of  the  senses.  Of  the  four  forms  of  discourse, 
description  is  perhaps  the  least  independent;  commonly 
it  is  but  the  handmaiden  of  other  forms.  That  it  is  of 
great  assistance  in  narration  is  attested  by  the  fact  that 
we  speak,  quite  properly,  of  describing  a  ball  game  or  a 
yacht  race,  so  necessary  are  word-pictures  to  any  satisfac- 
tory account.  In  later  chapters  we  shall  see  that  it  is  of 
value  in  composition  and  argument. 

Description  is  an  exceedingly  difficult  form  of  discourse 
to  write.  In  the  first  place,  careful  observers  are  rare;  the 
senses  are  not  trained  to  do  accurate  work. 
Because  the  five  sense-messengers  bring  to  fiojHs  difficult 
us  but  vague,  inaccurate  impressions,  it  is 
impossible  for  us  to  impart  clear-cut  information  to  others. 
Even  those  who  are  skilled  observers  experience  difficulty 
in  finding  terms  to  express  their  impressions.  What  words, 
for  example,  can  be  found  to  describe  the  taste  of  a  straw- 
berry, or  the  perfume  of  a  rose,  or  the  roar  of  breakers,  or 
the  disposition  of  our  next  door  neighbor?  Moreover,  it 
requires  rare  judgment  to  determine,  oftentimes,  what  a 
description  should  include  and  in  what  order  the  various 

83 


84  RHETORIC 

items  should  be  presented.     But  more  profitable  than  a 

long  enumeration  of  attending  difficulties  will  be  a  few 

practical  suggestions  such  as  common  experience  shows 

are  of  service  to  young  writers. 

First  suggestion:  Rememher  that  you  have  not  one,  nor 

two,  hut  five  senses.    Train  them — all  of  them.    Train  the 

memory  to  retain  sense-impressions  of  all 

-  ^  ^  ^  kinds.  When  you  write,  do  not  tell  merely 
five  senses  i         i  i 

what  the  eye  has  seen. 

Second  suggestion:  Exercise  economy.     Readers  are  in- 
clined to  slight  descriptive  passages,  frequently  omitting 
them  altogether.    Be  brief,  then.    What  can 
xercising         j  ^^^^^  -^  ^^  pertinent  a  question  as  How  much 
economy  ^  ^ 

have  I  to  tell.    Of  all  the  ways  of  economizing, 

two  stand  out  conspicuousl3\ 

First,  determine  with  great  care  what  is  distinctive  in 
that  which  is  to  be  described,  the  few  points  which  make 
Picking  out  it  different  from  others  of  its  kind.  This 
what  is  matter  once  decided,  all  else  may  be  with 

distinctive  safety  excluded  from  consideration  and 
energy  directed  toward  bringing  out  clearly  the  salient 
characteristics.  In  picturing  a  building,  for  example,  one 
need  not  tell  everything  about  it;  a  few  items  may  suffice 
to  distinguish  it  from  other  buildings. 

Second,  choose  words  that  convey,  quickly,  vivid  im- 
pressions— picture-words. 

Wee,  sleekit,  cowr'in,  tim'rous  beastie, 

runs  the  first  line  of  Burns's  To  a  Mouse — five  words  only, 
yet  how  satisfactory  the  picture.  Macaulay  describes 
Choosing  Mrs.  Thrale  as  "one  of  those  clever,  kind- 

descriptive  hearted,  engaging,  vain,  pert  young  women, 
words  who  are  perpetually  doing  or  saying  what 

is   not   exactly   right,   but  who,   do  or  say  what  they 


DESCRIPTION  85 

may,  are  always  agreeable."  This  characterization  is 
clear  and  brief,  and  the  brevity  is  due  in  large  meas- 
ure to  Macaulay's  skill  in  selecting  words.  Adjectives 
and  adverbs  are,  by  reputation,  particularly  useful  in 
description;  yet  such  words  as  toddle,  whimper,  and 
drawl  suggest  that  verbs  too  may  be  graphic,  certainly 
more  effective  than  lovely,  nice,  fine,  and  grand,  adjectives 
so  broad  that  they  convey  no  very  definite  meaning. 

Third  suggestion:  Follow  some  plan.     Description  is  so 
varied  in  kind  that  an  attempt  to  enumerate  all  the  plans 
by  following  which  unity,   coherence,  and 
proper  emphasis  may  be  sought  would  be 
vain.    Here,  however,  are  a  few  hints: 

First,  unity  is  often  to  be  gained — and  brevity  too — 
by  keeping  in  mind  a  definite  purpose  and  making  each 
item  contribute  to  it.     Thus  the  items  be- 
come centered  like  the  spokes  in  a  wheel. 

purpose 
Dickens  follows  this  method  in  describing 

St.  Antoine,  a  section  of  Paris  near  the  old  Bastille.  As 
we  read  paragraph  after  paragraph,  we  realize  that  des- 
perate poverty  is  the  hub  to  the  descriptive  wheel;  nothing 
is  introduced  save  that  which  points  to  this  one  thing. 

Second,  confusion  is  avoided  and  order  gained,  often- 
times, through  relating  all  to  one  point  of  view — a  plan 

suggesting  not  a  wheel  so  much  as  an  opened 

r  A        11  •  i.     r  •  •  One  point  of 

I  an.    A  valley  gives  one  set  of  impressions      . 

to  the  observer  who  stands  on  the  bank  of  a 
stream  winding  through  it,  a  very  different  set  of  im- 
pressions to  the  observer  who  looks  down  from  the  brow 
of  a  hill.  Mix  these  two  sets  of  impressions  and  the  result 
is  a  confused  picture.  This  the  inexperienced  writer  some- 
times forgets,  especially  when  describing  from  memory. 
But  if,  in  picturing  a  landscape,  for  example,  the  writer 
adopts  a  single  point  of  view  and  makes  it  known,  the 


86  RHETORIC 

picture  becomes  unified.    At  times,  it  is  true,  the  nature 

of  the  task  is  such  as  to  call  for  a  succession  of  viewpoints; 

but  in  such  case  clearness  tnay  still  be  maintained  through 

notifying  the  reader  of  each  change  in  the  position  of  the 

observer. 

Third,  it  is  well  to  begin  a  description  with  a  general 

outline  sketch,  or  a  brief  picture  of  the  whole,  follow- 

^  .,.     ^    .      ing  this  with  details;  just  as  in  drawing  a 

Outline  first  ^  ,      .  -.i    V         j  t  ^ 

map   we    begm   with   boundary   Imes   and 

afterwards  put  in  mountains,  rivers,  and  lakes.  In  de- 
scribing a  room,  for  example,  it  is  well  to  begin  with  a 
sentence  or  two  giving  a  general  idea  of  its  appearance, 
or  that  which  one  notices  at  first  glance  as  the  door  opens, 
and  then  proceed  with  details.  What  order  to  follow  in  pre- 
senting details  is  not  a  matter  for  hard  and  fast  rules,  yet 
order  of  some  kind  is  in  every  case  desirable.  Sometimes 
the  chronological  order  seems  best,  the  items  being  re- 
corded in  the  order  in  which  they  have  been  noted.  Some- 
times it  is  best  to  proceed  from  left  to  right,  or  from  that 
which  is  low  to  that  which  is  higher,  or  from  that  which 
is  near  to  that  which  is  more  remote.  Not  infrequently 
it  is  well  to  begin  with  the  most  prominent  feature  and 
relate  all  else  to  it.  Whatever  the  plan  adopted,  the 
skilled  writer  marks  his  transitions  with  care,  guiding 
the  reader  by  means  of  such  index  expressions  as  close  at 
hand,  a  little  beyond  this,  and  turning  now  to  the  right. 
He  is  careful,  moreover,  to  give  prominence  to  that  which 
deserves  emphasis,  subordinating  less  important  features, 
and  omitting  altogether  whatever  is  irrelevant  to  his 
purpose. 

Fourth  suggestion:  Unless  scientific  accuracy  is  called  for, 
let  personality  color  your  descriptions;  inake  them  better  than 
mere  photographs.  A  post-card  picture  of  the  ruins  of  Mel- 
rose Abbey  may  be  less  satisfying  than  a  letter  from  t 


DESCRIPTION  87 

friend  who  has  recently  visited  the  ruins  and  tries  to  tell 
you  how  they  impressed  him.     Stevenson's  eyes  were  no 
better   than   many   another    person's;    yet    Giving 
we  read  his  descriptive  passages  with  great    sway  to 
pleasure  because  there  is  so  much  of  Steven-    personality 
son  in  them.    It  is  personality,  individuality,  that  fur- 
nishes charm  to  most  discourse  save  such  as  is  employed 
for  purely  practical  ends.    Do  not,  then,  when  writing  de- 
scription, hold  the  emotions  in  check.     Give  the  picture, 
and  with  it  give  something  of  yourself. 

Fifth  suggestion:  Stop  skipping  descriptive  passages  when 
reading.    Study  them  with  great  care.    Try  to  discriminate 
between  the  good  and  the  bad.    Try  to  dis- 
cover for  yourself  why  it  is  that  Ruskin        a^i^^ 
succeeds    so    well    in    all    his    descriptions, 
whether  his  subject  be  a  bird's  feather  or  a  great  cathedral. 
A  little  independent  investigation  of  this  sort  will  bring 
greater  returns  than  memorizing  the  pages  of  a  textbook. 
And  having  studied,  practice. 

EXERCISES 

It  would  not  be  a  difficult  matter  to  invent  hundreds 
of  tasks  in  description,  each  differing  from  the  others  in 
some  sUght  respect.  The  following,  selected  mainly  be- 
cause they  have  been  tried  in  classroom,  are  not  grouped 
strictly  in  the  order  of  their  difficulty;  it  has  seemed  best 
to  let  the  individual  instructor  determine  what  shall  be 
experimented  with  first. 

1  Examine  closely  some  article  now  in  your  possession 
to  see  what  are  its  distinguishing  marks;  then  write  such 
an  advertisement'as  you  would  publish  were  the  article  lost. 

2  Write  a  brief  description  of  some  person  whom  you 
know  very  well,  imagining  that  he  is  a  fugitive  from  justice. 


88  RHETORIC 

Remember  that  to  casual  observers  many  people  look  alike 
and  that  false  arrest  is  disagreeable. 

3  Imagining  that  you  are  an  agent  in  whose  hands  a 
piece  of  property  has  been  placed,  write  a  letter  to  a 
prospective  customer  picturing  the  property.  Let  the 
description  be  systematic,  conveying  a  general  impression 
first. 

4  Describe  some  machine  or  contrivance  in  such  a  way 
as  to  impart  a  clear  impression.  Employ  comparisons  if 
necessary. 

5  Describe  in  a  general  way  the  plan  of  some  park  or 
village  or  locality,  in  bird's-eye  view  fashion  mapping  it 
out.    Employ  comparison;  make  careful  transitions. 

6  Imagining  that  you  have  lost  a  ring  or  a  knife  while 
on  a  ramble,  write  a  note  to  a  friend  asking  him  to  find  it 
for  you.  Describe  minutely  the  place  where  you  think 
the  article  may  be  found. 

7  Describe  the  course  of  a  stream,  or  of  a  trail  through 
the  woods,  or  of  a  country  road  with  which  you  are  very 
familiar. 

8  Describe  in  not  more  than  sixty  words  the  exterior  of 
some  familiar  building  as  seen  from  one  viewpoint,  con- 
veying as  correct  an  impression  as  you  can.  Watch  your 
sentence  structure. 

9  Describe  the  same  building  in  as  many  words  as  you 
please  and  from  as  many  viewpoints  as  may  be  necessary, 
emphasizing  only  such  things  as  are  characteristic.  Try 
beginning  with  the  more  obvious  matters,  creating  in  the 
reader's  mind  a  general  picture;  then  fill  in  details.  Close 
with  the  impression  made  by  the  building  as  a  whole. 


DESCRIPTION  89 

10  Invent  a  plan  for  some  interior — a  hunting  camp  for 
instance,  or  the  cabin  of  a  sloop,  or  a  boy's  workshop,  or  a 
store — setting  forth  your  plan  so  clearly  that  the  listener 
or  reader  will  see  what  you  picture. 

11  Describe  an  interior,  real  or  imaginary,  striving  not 
only  to  give  a  clear  picture  but  to  convey  vividly  some 
one  impression,  as  vast  space,  splendor,  shabbiness, 
quaintness,  perfect  order,  disorder,  weirdness,  gloom, 
poverty,  or  snugness. 

12  Describe  one  of  the  following  interiors,  conveying 
not  only  a  correct  impression  of  size,  but  the  arrange- 
ment of  objects  within  the  room:  a  workshop,  a  gymna- 
sium, a  parlor  car,  a  waiting  room,  a  church,  a  store. 

13  Write  a  brief  nature  sketch,  not  over  two  hundred 
words,  emphasizing  what  the  eyes  see,  especially  color. 

14  Write  a  brief  nature  sketch  giving  the  impressions 
registered  by  at  least  two  of  the  senses. 

15  Write  a  description  of  an  extended  view  such  as  may 
be  had  from  a  hilltop  or  a  tower. 

16  Write  a  description  of  some  view  as  it  appears  at 
different  times  of  day  or  at  different  seasons  of  the  year. 

17  Sit  before  a  window  for  ten  minutes,  recording 
accurately  all  that  the  eye  sees. 

18  Write  a  moving-picture  description,  the  result  of 
observations  from  a  car  window,  or  from  a  canoe  drifting 
downstream,  or  from  the  deck  of  a  ferryboat. 

19  Write  a  description  giving  the  setting  for  some  scene 
remembered  from  a  novel  or  a  play. 


CO  RHETORIC 

20  Invent  a  setting  appropriate  for  some  action  of  your 
own  imagining — a  contest,  a  disaster,  a  festival,  a  crime. 

21  Make  a  list  of  all  the  things  you  would  wish  to 
mention  were  you  describing  one  of  the  following,  and 
tell  what  you  would  wish  particularly  to  emphasize: 

A  campaign  parade,  a  room  in  a  factory,  a  department  store,  a 
public  library,  a  prairie,  a  fruit  orchard,  a  country  lane,  a  city 
wharf,  a  harbor,  a  circus  tent  just  before  the  performance  begins, 
a  lunch  room  at  recess,  a  booth  at  a  fair,  a  mining  camp,  a  kitchen 
the  day  before  Thanksgiving,  the  stage  of  a  theater,  an  athletic 
field,  a  city  street,  a  plantation.  Make  a  brief  topical  plan  for 
such  a  description,  indicating  in  some  way  the  proportionate 
space  to  be  given  each  topic. 

22  Describe  a  tableau  such  as  a  snap  shot  might  reveal 
at  a  critical  moment  in  some  comedy  or  tragedy  that  you 
have  witnessed  or  in  which  you  have  had  a  part.  Do  not 
use  over  two  hundred  words. 

23  Give  a  clear  picture  of  a  store  window,  emphasizing 
the  impression  made  by  the  display. 

24  Give  a  series  of  descriptions  of  the  same  store  window 
as  it  appears  to  several  pairs  of  eyes. 

25  Playing  the  spectator,  watch  a  group  of  children, 
noting  not  only  what  they  do  and  say,  but  facial  ex- 
pression, tone  of  voice,  gestures,  etc.  Record  your  ob- 
servations. 

26  Watch  carefully  for  ten  minutes  any  animal — a  dog, 
an  alit,  a  butterfly;  then  record  your  observations. 

27  Study  carefully  for  ten  minutes  some  small  object — 
a  leaf,  a  flower,  a  bird's  feather,  a  tuft  of  moss;  then  record 
your  sense  impressions. 


DESCRIPTION  91 

28  Try  to  describe  in  single  sentences  four  or  five  of 
your  intimate  friends. 

29  Describe  in  detail  a  countenance. 

30  Describe  a  person  in  the  act  of  doing  something 
characteristic — a  cobbler  at  his  bench,  a  fisherman  mend- 
ing his  net,  an  auctioneer  selling  his  goods,  a  blacksmith 
at  his  forge. 

31  Remembering  that  character  is  revealed  in  many 
ways — through  countenance,  voice,  gait,  conversation, 
employment,  etc.,  give  as  clear  an  impression  as  you  can 
of  any  individual,  real  or  imagined.  Use  as  many  forms 
of  discourse  as  you  please,  the  one  thing  essential  being 
that  the  portrait  shall  be  true  to  life. 

32  Bring  out  the  characteristics  of  a  group  of  people 
through  their  conversation,  introducing  here  and  there 
little  phrases  revealing  facial  expression  and  gestures  and 
tone  of  voice. 

33  Describe  accurately  the  weather  of  the  past  two 
or  three  days. 

34  Describe  a  *' spell"  of  weather,  emphasizing  cold, 
wet,  windiness,  sultriness,  heat,  continual  change,  or 
drought. 

35  Give  from  accurate  observation  a  description  of 
daybreak  or  nightfall. 

36  Bring  to  class  good  specimens  of  description  found 
in  books  or  magazines,  and  be  prepared  to  tell  what  you 
see  in  them  to  admire. 


CHAPTER  IX 

EXPOSITION 

Exposition  is  another  name  for  explanation.  In  some 
of  its  forms  it  differs  little  from  narration,  the  distinction 
lying  in  the  fact  that,  as  a  rule,  the  subject 
matter  of  narration  is  particular.  For  ex- 
ample, a  composition  telling  how  a  certain  guide,  on  a  cer- 
tain occasion,  built  a  camp  fire  would  be  classed  as  narra- 
tion; a  composition  giving  general  directions  for  building 
camp  fires  would  be  classed  as  exposition.  Fortunately 
this  nice  distinction  is  not  one  that  the  writer  must  keep 
constantly  in  mind. 

Exposition  is  perhaps  the  most  practical  of  all  forms  of 

discourse  and  the  form  most  often  employed  from  day  to 

day.    It  plays  an  important  part  in  educa- 

^.  *  \  tion.     Most   textbooks  are  mainly  expos- 

practical  .  T^       .         .  11*^, 

itory.  Recitations  are  largely  but  explana- 
tions. In  the  English  class  the  pupil  employs  exposition 
when  giving  the  meaning  of  words,  phrases,  and  sentences, 
or  pointing  out  the  leading  characteristics  of  an  author's 
style,  or  telling  why  he  thinks  a  certain  passage  beautiful. 
In  the  history  recitation  when  a  pupil  explains  some  great 
event  by  showing  the  causes  that  led  up  to  it,  and  in  the 
science  recitation  when  he  classifies  the  leading  varieties 
of  plant  life,  or  tells  how  coal  is  formed,  the  account  is  ex- 
pository. Exposition  is  employed  almost  as  freely  after 
school-days  are  over,  by  the  overseer  instructing  his  men, 
the  merchant  setting  forth  the  merits  of  his  wares, 
the  minister  expounding  his  text,  the  lawyer  interpreting 

92 


EXPOSITION  93 

statutes.  It  is  safe  to  say  that  by  far  the  greater  part  of 
daily  conversation  is  but  one  kind  or  another  of  this  form 
of  discourse. 

Since  exposition  is  in  such  common  use  and  of  such 
practical  value,  it  is  well  to  consider  with  unusual  care  the 
processes  employed  in  imparting  information 
and  explaining  meanings.    Entire  textbooks       ^p.  ^. 
are  devoted  to  this  important  matter,  so 
much  is  there  to  be  said;  the  purpose  of  this  manual  is 
such  that  the  subject  must  be  dealt  with  very  briefly  and 
simply. 

First,  we  explain  through  defining.  This  is  the  method 
employed  when  a  single  word  or  phrase  blocks  the  way 
to  a  clear  understanding.  Frequently  it  ^  ^  . 
calls  but  for  the  substitution  of  a  synonym 
better  known.  The  term  agile  is  explained  through  sub- 
stituting for  it  the  synonym  nimble  or  brisk.  Sometimes 
we  define  by  naming  two  or  three  distinguishing  char- 
acteristics, a  method  which  might  be  used  in  conveying 
one's  ideas  in  regard  to  the  meaning  of  the  term  gentleman. 
This  calls  for  greater  skill  than  merely  substituting  a 
synonym,  since  it  is  not  always  a  simple  matter  to  deter- 
mine what  characteristic  marks  are  most  essential  and 
what  ones  are  of  minor  importance.  Two  ways  of  defining 
often  found  together  are  known  as  the  methods  of  exclu- 
sion and  inclusion.  Burke  begins  one  of  his  paragraphs 
with  the  statement  The  proposition  is  peace.  Fearing  that 
peace  may  mean  one  thing  to  some  and  another  thing  to 
others,  he  proceeds  to  enumerate  a  number  of  kinds  of 
peace  that  are  not  included  in  his  idea.  I  do  not  mean  this 
kind,  he  says  in  substance,  nor  this,  nor  this,  thus  excluding 
all  that  does  not  belong  to  his  conception  of  peace.  De- 
fining by  inclusion  is  the  reverse  of  this;  it  consists  in 
enumerating,  item  by  item,  all  that  the  term  under  con- 


94  RHETORIC 

sideration  includes,  till  the  entire  field  is  covered,  nothing 
omitted.  Thus  defining  by  exclusion  and  inclusion  is  but 
a  method  of  determining  boundaries.  It  is  like  drawing 
a  circle  and  saying  (by  way  of  exclusion)  This  and  this  and 
this,  which  lie  beyond  the  circumference,  are  not  mine;  then 
(by  way  of  inclusion)  This  and  this  and  this,  in  fact  all 
things  lying  within  the  circle,  belong  to  me. 

Second,  we  explain  by  means  of  comparison.  Some  com- 
parisons call  attention  to  similarities.  It  works  like  a  lawn- 
mower,  the  inventor  may  say  in  explaining 
his  new  machine.  Other  comparisons  estab- 
lish marked  contrasts.  If,  for  example,  it  is  desired  to 
make  clear  what  is  meant  by  school  spirit,  one  might  pro- 
ceed to  picture  the  opposite  of  school  spirit,  dwelling  upon 
this  opposite  idea  till  every  feature  is  distinct,  then  say 
that  the  exact  contrary  of  this  which  has  been  pictured  rep- 
resents the  true  idea.  But  frequently  comparison  takes 
the  form  of  drawing  nice  distinctions  between  two  things 
likely  to  be  thought  of  as  equivalent  or  identical.  If  we 
are  discussing  courage,  we  may  place  beside  this  term  the 
nearly  identical  term  daring  and  show  wherein  the  two 
terms  are  similar  in  meaning  and  wherein  they  differ. 
Whatever  form  comparison  takes,  whether  that  of  simil- 
itude, contrast,  or  nice  discrimination,  it  will  be  noted 
that  it  is  but  a  form  of  definition. 

Third,  we  explain  by  means  of  illustration.  The  dic- 
tionary employs  this  method  when,  following  the  definition 

of  a  word,  it  gives  a  sentence  in  which  the 
Illustration  ■,  .  i        j        x  i  v 

.  J       word  IS  so  employed  as  to  reveal  its  proper 

use.  An  expository  composition  on  auto- 
mobile accidents  might  well  contain  specific  instances 
illustrating  various  kinds  of  accidents.  It  is  hardly  nec- 
essary to  add  that  illustrations  of  a  somewhat  different 
kind,  namely  pen  drawings,  play  an  important  part  in  the 


EXPOSITION  95 

explanatory  matter  of  many  textbooks.    Illustration,  like 
comparison,  is  really  a  form  of  definition. 

Fourth,   we  explain  through  restatement.     Determined 
that  nothing  shall  be  misunderstood,  the  careful  writer 

repeats  his  statements  over  and  over  again,    ^    ^  , 

,    ,.  .       ,,     1  1       Restatement 

each  time  varymg  the  language  or  approach- 
ing the  point  of  difficulty  from  a  slightly  different  angle. 
He  recognizes  that  what  is  simple  to  him  may  be  very  per- 
plexing to  others,  and  that  he  may  not  succeed,  the  first  time 
he  tries,  in  making  himself  understood;  so  by  restatement 
after  restatement,  ever  keeping  in  mind  the  barrier  of 
difficulty,  he  gradually  clears  the  way  to  comprehension. 
Fifth,  we  explain  through  analyzing  wholes  into  their 
parts  and  showing  the  relationship  of  these  parts.  This  is 
the  method  pursued  in  displaying  information  in  all  fields 
of  human  knowledge.  It  is  the  plan  fol-  Analysis, 
lowed  in  textbooks,  the  plan  followed,  classification, 
though  imperfectly,  by  the  school-boy  and  synthesis 
in  writing  his  first  expository  composition.  In  exposition 
we  expose — display,  spread  out — before  the  reader  all 
that  the  subject  at  hand  includes.  We  analyze  it,  or 
separate  it,  into  component  parts,  as  a  machinist  takes 
to  pieces  a  machine.  We  classify  the  parts,  grouping 
those  that  are  naturally  associated.  We  show  the  relation- 
ship of  part  to  part — ^just  as  the  machinist,  having  taken 
to  pieces  a  machine  and  shown  each  part  separately, 
proceeds  to  reassemble  wheels,  axles,  pins,  etc.,  to  show 
how  all  goes  together  to  make  up  the  whole.  Taking  to 
pieces,  examining  parts  separately  and  pointing  out  the 
relationship  of  part  to  part,  and  finally  reassembling  the 
parts :  this  is  the  main  business  of  most  expository  writing. 

Keeping  these  five  methods  in  mind,  let 

.  ,  i?        1  •  -x  General 

us  now  consider  ways  of  making  expository    suggestions 

writing  effective. 


96  RHETORIC 

First  suggestion:  Before  heginning  to  write,  acquire  ac- 
curate information.     Thi»  point  has  received   attention 

in  an  earlier  chapter,  but  it  is  so  important 
•  f        to         ^^^^    ^^   ^^^^^   hQwc   repeating.      Superficial, 

second-hand  information,  perhaps  acquired 
through  hastily  reading  a  single  magazine  article,  will  not 
suffice;  the  subject  must  be  known  through  and  through 
before  there  can  be  clear,  effective  exposition. 

Second  suggestion:  Before  heginning  to  write,  set  hound- 
aries  heyond  which  you  will  not  go.     Limit  the  field  to  a 

mere  corner  of  the  whole,  if  need  be.  Keep 
th   fi  Id  ^^^^  within  the  boundaries  of  what  you  know 

with  reasonable  completeness.  Indeed  it  is 
often  expedient  to  tell  but  a  small  part  of  all  that  one 
knows,  for  one  must  consider  the  time  at  his  disposal. 
He  must  also  consider  those  to  whom  he  is  writing  and 
gauge  his  exposition  to  meet  their  interest  and  mental 
capacity.  How  much  will  my  readers  care  to  be  told? 
What  will  interest  them?  What  are  they  capable  of  under- 
standing? These  are  questions  one  should  ask  before  be- 
ginning any  composition;  they  are  especially  pertinent 
when  the  composition  is  to  be  expository. 

Third  suggestion:  Determine  the  possible  divisions  of  the 
subject  within  the  prescribed  boundaries.     A  business-like 

way  often  recommended  for  doing  this  is  to 
th^^^  secure  slips  of  paper  and  record  on  each  a 

topic  as  it  occurs  to  the  mind,  continuing 
the  process  till  the  field  appears  to  be  well  covered.  With 
these  slips  spread  out  before  one,  a  little  study  will  serve 
to  show  whether  all  are  necessary,  whether  some  do  not  so 
overlap  that  they  may  be  to  advantage  combined,  and — 
this  is  important — whether  some  essential  topic  has  not 
been  overlooked.  It  is  a  good  plan  to  arrange  the  slips  by 
grouping  those  which  bear  upon  the  same  idea. 


EXPOSITION  97 

Fourth  suggestion:  Determine  with  care  which  of  the  three 
or  four  topics  finally  selected  call  for  special  emphasis.    Fix 
in  mind,  roughly,  the  space  to  be  allotted 
each  division  of  the  subject,  being  generous    gjuphasize 
towards  whatever  is  of  exceptional  impor- 
tance or  calls  for  unusual  care  because  of  its  difficulty. 
Save  not  only  time  and  space  but  energy  for  whatever  is 
likely  to  confuse  the  reader. 

Fifth  suggestion:  Determine  what  will  he  the  best  order  of 

presentation.      Theme-organization    is    important    in    all 

forms  of  discourse,  but  especially  so  in  ex- 

.^.  ,  ,  .  .  ...        Order  of 

position  where  clearness  is  a  prime  requisite,    «j.ocentaf  on 

and  where  it  is  not  always  possible  to  dis- 
cover a  time  sequence  or  a  place  sequence  as  in  narration 
and  description,    There  are  scores  of  plans,  no  doubt,  but 
the  following  are  the  most  common : 

1.  Proceed  from  that  which  is  simple,  easily  understood, 
to  that  which  is  more  difficult  to  comprehend.  All  ex- 
position is  but  going  from  the  known  to  the  unknown; 
hence  this  plan  is  surely  logical. 

2.  Begin  with  an  outline,  a  general  survey,  or  a  broad 
classification,  then  fill  in  the  details,  approaching  the  heart 
of  the  matter  by  degrees.  Such  a  plan  resembles  a  series  of 
circles  one  within  the  other. 

3.  Begin  with  details,  making  each  as  clear  as  possible, 
at  length  assembling  the  parts  into  a  unified  whole — just 
as  a  guide,  having  shown  the  ruins  of  a  castle  from  this 
point  of  view  and  that,  finally  leads  the  tourist  to  some 
commanding  eminence  from  which  the  ruins  as  a  whole 
may  be  seen. 

5  Begin  with  that  which  must  be  understood  at  the  out- 
set before  that  which  lies  beyond  can  be  made  comprehensi- 
ble. Many  an  expository  stronghold  has  at  its  entrance  a 
door  which  must  be  unlocked  or  battered  down  before  the 


98  RHETORIC 

investigator  can  explore  the  interior  room  by  room.  The 
door  may  be  but  a  term  that  needs  defining;  it  may  be  a 
matter  of  far  greater  difficulty,  perchance  a  theory  that 
needs  expounding. 

6.  Go  from  cause  to  effect  or  from  effect  to  cause.  An 
expository  theme  on  school  compositions,  for  example, 
might  begin  by  explaining  ways  in  which  compositions 
are  prepared  for,  then  proceed  to  show  the  results,  good 
and  bad,  of  various  kinds  of  preparation.  Or  it  might  be- 
gin with  an  account  of  various  grades  of  composition,  then 
show  how  merit  and  lack  of  merit  are  easily  accounted 
for  by  different  methods  of  preparation. 

Whatever  scheme  of  organizing  material  is  adopted, 

it  is  hardly  necessary  to  suggest  that  it  is  well  to  write  with 

a  topical  outline  at  hand — such  an  outline, 

j!  for  example,  as  is  found  summarizing  the 

chapter  on  Force — lest  in  the  close  attention 
required  in  giving  adequate  expression  to  thought,  the 
main  course  of  the  exposition  be  lost  sight  of. 

Sixth  suggestion:  Provided  it  can  he  done  without  loss  in 
clearness^  use  freely  whatever  devices  seem  likely  to  aid  in 
Capturing  capturing    and    holding    attention.      Purely 

and  holding  scientific  exposition,  it  is  true,  is  addressed 
attention  solely  to  the  understanding,  not  to  the  emo- 

tions; theoretically,  therefore,  it  demands  clearness  and 
nothing  more.  But  exposition,  as  it  is  employed  day  by 
day,  seldom  is  purely  scientific;  commonly  it  is  merely 
what  may  be  termed  popular,  addressed  to  those  not  over- 
eager  to  receive  information.  Their  interest  must  be 
aroused,  and  held;  otherwise,  words  are  wasted.  If 
you  feel  inclined  to  do  so,  begin  with  an  anecdote,  provided 
the  anecdote  throws  light  directly  on  the  matter  to  be  ex- 
plained. Introduce  description,  if  it  will  be  of  definite  serv- 
ice.   Follow  a  climax  sequence,  if  it  can  be  done  without 


EXPOSITION  99 

sacrificing  clearness.  Resort  to  extended  comparison,  if  by 
so  doing  an  aid  to  the  memory  is  provided  without  twisting 
the  truth. 

Seventh  suggestion:  Use  simple  language.     Avoid  tech- 
nical terms.    If  an  unusual  word  is  called  for,  explain  its 
meaning.      Write   and   rewrite,   with    each    Necessity 
revision  trying  to  simplify.     Put  yourself    of  simple 
in  the  place  of  your  dullest  reader;  think    language 
what  in  your  explanation  might  prove  puzzling  to  him, 
then  endeavor  to  make  the  way  a  little  easier  for  him  to 
follow.     Writing  exposition  is  like  a  game  in  which  the 
one  thing  sought  is  to  make  what  is  clear  to  you  equally 
clear  to  others.    No  game  calls  for  greater  patience  and 
painstaking.  / 

EXERCISES 

A  number  of  the  exercises  found  in  the  chapters  on  Purity, 
Clearness,  and  Force  provide  drill  in  exposition.  The  same 
is  true  of  many  of  the  exercises  in  Part  II;  and  the  ques- 
tions on  masterpieces,  found  in  the  Appendix,  in  most 
instances  call  for  expository  answers.  The  tasks  here 
given  are  but  a  few  out  of  a  large  number  that  are  familiar 
to  most  instructors. 

1  Give  full  directions  for  making  some  article  brought 
to  your  mind  by  the  list  found  below.  At  the  outset, 
decide  upon  some  simple  plan  like  the  following :  Materials 
and  tools  necessary — first  step — second  step — last  step. 
Consider,  too,  what  cautions  you  should  give,  what 
possible  mistakes  you  should  warn  against.  That  is, 
try  to  make  your  explanation  practical,  that  others  may 
profit  by  your  experience.  Employ  pen  drawings  or  black- 
board illustrations,  if  by  so  doing  you  can  gain  clearness. 

A  work  box.  A  bead  chain.  A  waterwheel.  A  surface  gauge. 
A  toy  ghder.    A  workbench.     A  book  bag.    A  bird  house.    A 


100  RHETORIC 

megaphone.  A  clothes  hanger.  A  toy.  A  stand  for  plants.  A 
shanty.  A  canoe.  A  garment.  A  useful  Christmas  gift.  A  camp 
bed.  An  omelet.  An  attractive  calendar.  Ribbon  flowers. 
Any  article  you  have  made  in  the  domestic  science  or  manual 
training  department. 

2  Give  directions  for  doing  one  of  the  following  things: 

Finding  a  small  town  in  a  large  atlas.  Finding  what  a  pubhc 
library  contains  on  a  given  subject.  Putting  on  a  collar  and 
necktie.  Determining  the  number  of  yards  of  carpeting  required 
to  cover  a  given  floor  space.  Fitting  up  a  boy's  workshop. 
Erecting  a  telephone  pole.  Taking  down  a  condemned  church 
spire.  Marking  out  a  tennis  court  or  a  base  ball  diamond. 
Pruning  a  grape  vine.  Training  a  dog.  Decorating  place-cards. 
Framing  pictures  in  passe-partout.  Mending  a  ripped  glove. 
Decorating  china.  Washing  delicate  fabrics.  Using  a  check- 
book.   Packing  a  trunk.    Caring  for  a  canary. 

3  After  visiting  a  mill  or  factory,  explain  how  some 
article  is  manufactured.  If  the  process  of  manufacture 
is  long  and  intricate,  confine  your  account  to  two  or 
three  important  steps.  Be  as  graphic  as  possible,  trying 
hard  to  make  others  see  what  you  have  seen.  Remember 
that  one  way  of  gaining  clearness  is  through  comparison, 
things  unfamiliar  being  likened  to  those  which  everyone 
knows  about.    Avoid  technical  terms. 

4  Give  an  expository  talk  from  three  to  ten  minutes 
long  on  a  topic  suggested  by  the  list  below,  following  some 
such  plan  as  this:  What  purpose  the  device  serves — how  it 
looks — how  it  is  constructed — how  it  works.  In  preparing 
for  the  talk,  consider  carefully  what  in  your  explanation 
is  likely  to  prove  difficult  to  understand,  then  try  to  think 
of  ways  in  which  the  explanation  may  be  made  simple. 

A  thermometer.  A  vacuum  cleaner.  A  chafing  dish  equip- 
ment. A  blacksmith's  forge.  A  percolator  coffee  pot.  A  fire 
extinguisher.    A  storage  battery.    An  egg  beater.    A  grindstone. 


EXPOSITION  10) 

A  derrick.  A  telephone  receiver.  A  fireless  cooker.  A  cream 
separator.  A  storage  battery.  A  suction  pump.  A  turbine 
waterwheel.    A  bread-mixer. 

5  Write  a  composition  on  good  manners  under  condi- 
tions suggested  by  some  one  of  the  phrases  found  below. 
Bear  in  mind  that  in  impressing  on  others  the  beauty 
of  courtesy  it  is  well  to  be  courteous. 

At  the  table.  During  recitation.  While  shopping.  On  the 
athletic  field.  While  attending  church.  In  letter-writing.  When 
telephoning.  At  the  theater.  In  the  school  lunch  room.  On 
the  street.  In  camp.  While  reading  to  one's  self.  In  a  pubhc 
conveyance.    While  visiting.    Toward  children. 

6  Explain,  in  writing,  the  difference  between  any  two 
things  found  coupled  below.  This  task,  apparently  simple, 
is  really  very  difficult.  We  all  know  a  door  when  we  see 
one,  and  we  know  what  a  gate  is;  yet  when  asked  to 
define  the  difference  between  the  two  we  are  Hkely  to 
make  ludicrous  mistakes.  Be  careful  to  frame  sensible 
answers.    Do  not  consult  the  dictionary. 

A  door  and  a  gate.  Walking  and  running.  Baggage  and 
freight.  Fame  and  reputation.  Opponent  and  competitor.  A 
plant  and  an  animal.  A  real  and  a  virtual  image.  Snow  and 
hail.  Fog  and  clouds.  A  slipper  and  a  shoe.  A  brad  and  a  tack. 
A  fly  and  a  beetle.  A  hammer  and  a  mallet.  A  check  and  a 
draft.  A  bolt  and  a  screw.  Poetry  and  prose.  A  show  and  an 
entertainment. 

7  Tell  orally  what  you  consider  the  best  way  of  doing 
one  of  the  following: 

Preparing  for  a  recitation  in .  Writing  a  composi- 
tion. Preparing  for  an  athletic  contest.  Financing  an  athletic 
association.  Getting  pupils  to  write  for  the  school  paper.  Arous- 
ing school  spirit.  Preparing  for  examination.  Keeping  one's 
temper.    Winning  popularity. 


103  RHETORIC 

8  Write  a  composition  setting  forth  what  you  consider 
the  essential  characteristics — the  ideal  qualities,  that  is — ■ 
of  one  of  the  following : 

A  base  ball  captain.  An  editor-in-chief  of  a  school  paper. 
The  president  of  a  debating  club.  The  business  manager  of  an 
athletic  association.  The  captain  of  a  crew.  A  leader  among 
girls.  A  leader  among  boys.  A  successful  business  man.  A 
policeman.  A  machinist.  A  fisherman.  A  president.  A  book- 
keeper. An  Arctic  explorer.  A  leader  of  a  gymnasium  class. 
A  farmer.  A  hostess.  A  physician.  A  teacher.  A  chum.  A 
travelling  companion. 

9  In  a  carefully  thought-out  composition,  employing 
any  form  of  discourse  that  will  serve  your  purpose,  picture 
your  ideals  as  suggested  by  one  of  the  topics  found  below. 
Take  particular  pains  to  organize  what  you  have  to  say, 
and  employ  whatever  devices  may  occur  to  you  for  making 
your  ideals  seem  attractive  to  others. 

A  luncheon.  A  novel.  A  play.  A  kitchen.  A  good  position. 
A  water  craft.  An  athletic  field.  A  place  of  residence.  A  vaca- 
tion retreat.    A  street  gown.    A  banquet.    A  good  time. 

10  Give  a  full  account  of  some  experiment  that  you 
have  performed  or  witnessed  in  the  physics  or  chemistry 
laboratory.  Follow  such  a  plan  as  this:  Purpose  of  the 
experiment — the  apparatus — what  was  done  with  the  ap- 
paratus— the  phenomena  observed. 

11  Make  a  topical  plan  for  a  fifteen  minute  informal 
talk,  which  you  may  imagine  that  you  are  to  give  to  your 
classmates,  on  one  of  the  topics  found  below.  Keep  in 
mind  the  audience  for  whom  the  talk  is  designed,  and 
also  the  time  limit. 

Plains,  plateaus,  and  deserts.  Caves.  Ocean  currents.  Life 
at  the  ocean  bottom.  Glaciers.  The  human  head.  The  lungs. 
The  spinal  column.    The  usefulness  of  birds.    The  life  of  a  bee. 


EXPOSITION  ■  103 

Tree  enemies.  Fish  and  their  ways.  A  central  power  station. 
A  blast  furnace.  The  manufacture  of  steel.  How  our  building 
is  ventilated.  Mirrors  and  lenses.  Levers  and  pulleys.  A 
modern  steamship.    A  boys'  camp.    Juvenile  courts.    Whistler. 

Helen  Keller.    Nature  as  seen  in  the  works  of .    The 

characteristics  of 's  style.  Figures  of  speech.  Versi- 
fication. 

12  Explain  in  whatever  way  seems  most  forceful  what 
is  meant  by  one  of  the  following,  considering  with  great 
care  what  devices  will  be  most  serviceable  in  driving 
home  the  essential  ideas.  Resort  to  narration  or  descrip- 
tion, if  by  so  doing  you  can  gain  clearness  and  force. 
Give  illustrations,  real  or  fancied. 

Homesickness.  Thrift.  Good-heartedness.  An  amiable  dis- 
position. Winsomeness.  Jealousy.  Pluck.  Conceit.  Ex- 
travagance. Envy.  An  easy-going  fellow.  A  grind.  A  tease. 
A  cheeky  fellow.    A  blunt  fellow.    Spunk.    Honor. 

13  Explain  as  clearly  and  as  briefly  as  you  can  what 
each  of  the  following  proverbs  means: 

The  best  mirror  is  an  old  friend.  Vice  makes  virtue  shine. 
The  greater  the  man,  the  greater  the  crime.  The  crutch  of  Time 
does  more  than  the  club  of  Hercules.  Learning  makes  a  man  fit 
company  for  himself.  A  cat  may  look  at  a  king.  The  worst 
wheel  of  the  cart  creaks  loudest.  The  gods  bring  thread  for  a 
web  begun.  Stretch  not  your  arm  farther  than  your  sleeve  will 
go.    Mock  not  a  cobbler  for  his  black  thumbs. 

14  Show  the  meaning  of  each  of  the  following  by  ex- 
panding it  into  a  simile.  The  first,  for  example,  may  be 
expanded  thus:  Just  as  still  water  runs  deep,  so  men  who 
do  but  little  talking  may  be  deep  thinkers. 

Still  water  runs  deep.  A  roUing  stone  gathers  no  moss.  Thick 
grass  is  easier  mowed  than  thin.  Beauty  is  a  blossom.  A  good 
name  keeps  its  luster  in  the  dark.  Straight  trees  have  crooked 
roots.  The  empty  vessel  makes  the  loudest  sound.  A  fine  dia- 
mond may  be  ill  set. 


104  RHETORIC 

15  Make  clear  one  of  the  following  proverbs  by  means 
of  an  anecdote,  a  short  story,  or  a  personal  experience: 

It  never  rains  but  it  pours.  A  stout  heart  breaks  ill  luck.  He 
who  scatters  thorns,  let  him  never  go  barefoot.  Forecast  is 
better  than  hard  work.    The  wine  always  tastes  of  the  cask. 

16  Selecting  one  of  the  following  adages,  show  its 
force  through  varied  illustration  of  its  application: 

In  a  calm  sea,  every  man  is  a  pilot.  Honor  and  ease  are 
seldom  bedfellows.  Much  wants  more  and  loses  all.  A  good 
name  is  better  than  riches.  The  hand  that  gives,  gathers.  Black 
will  take  no  other  color.  A  word  spoken  is  an  arrow  let  fly.  All 
are  not  thieves  that  the  dogs  bark  at. 

17  Use  one  of  the  adages  already  given,  as  a  text  for  a 
moral  essay  of  some  length.  Try  not  only  to  make  clear 
the  meaning  of  the  adage  but  to  make  the  force  of  the 
proverb  deeply  felt.    Plan  carefully. 

18  Write  a  review  of  some  book  recently  read.  Since 
this  is  an  extremely  difficult  task,  it  may  be  well  to  lead 
up  to  it  through  class  discussion.  Here  are  questions 
to  consider :  What  is  the  purpose  of  a  book  review?  What 
are  the  main  things  to  be  told  about  any  book?  What 
should  be  told  first?  What  should  be  told  last?  What 
are  some  of  the  evils  to  guard  against?  These  and  kindred 
questions  having  been  considered,  it  will  be  well  for  the 
class,  working  together,  to  make  a  topical  plan. 

19  Write  a  brief  summary  of  a  lecture  or  a  sermon 
that  you  have  listened  to  recently. 

20  Write  a  character  sketch,  selecting  for  a  subject 
a  person  whom  you  know  very  well.  First  consider  what 
traits  are  prominent  in  this  person^  then  try  to  think  how 
these  traits  are  revealed. 

21  Try  again  exercises  9, 10,  and  11  in  the  chapter  on 
Clearness. 


CHAPTER  X 
ARGUMENT 

Discourse  employed  to  establish  the  truth  or  falsity  of 
propositions  is  called  argument.  Because  argument  and 
exposition  are  commonly  found  together,  j.  o  ... 
the  two  terms  are  often  confused;  yet  the 
difference  between  them  is  easily  defined.  The  purpose 
of  exposition  is  simply  to  explain;  the  purpose  of  argument 
is  not  only  to  explain  but  to  prove.  An  essay  setting  forth 
various  methods  of  learning  to  sing  is  expository;  an  essay 
designed  to  show  convincingly  that  some  one  method  of 
learning  to  sing  is  best  is  argumentative. 

How  do  we  prove  things?    What  are  the  methods  com- 
monly employed  in  establishing  truth  and  falsity?    Turn- 
ing to  the  better  known  rhetorics,  the  av- 
erage reader  is  not  a  little  bewildered  by  the 

=•  .  .       "^  proving 

answers  given  to  this  simple  question.  He 
gains  the  impression  that  argumentation  is  an  exceedingly 
perplexing  topic.  And  so  it  is;  yet  the  elementary  pro- 
cesses of  reasoning,  employed  by  everyone  many  times 
a  day,  are  so  simple  that  there  is  no  extreme  difficulty 
in  comprehending  them. 

First,  we  seek  to  prove  things  hy  means  of  direct  evidence  or 
testimony.    "  I  saw  him  do  it;  therefore  I  know  it  was  done," 
we  say,  using  our  own  eyes  as  witnesses.    Direct 
Or,  "Mr.  Brown  and  Mr.  Smith,  whom  I    evidence 
trust,  declare  that  they  saw  him  do  it;  there-    ^^  testimony 
fore  I  am  confident  that  it  was  done,"  we  explain,  calling 
to  aid  the  testimony  of  others.     Frequently  the  fact  in 
question  can  be  established  only  through  expert  testimony, 

105 


106  EHETORIC 

**The  builder  assures  me  that  the  house  can  be  erected  for 
ten  thousand  dollars;  therefore  I  believe  that  it  can.'^ 
And  sometimes  we  appeal  to  a  recognized  authority,  as  is 
seen  in  the  statements  ''I  know  that  the  word  is  correctly 
spelled,  for  I  have  looked  it  up  in  the  dictionary;"  ''I  know 
that  the  date  of  the  Norman  Conquest  is  1066,  for  here 
is  the  statement  in  a  reliable  history;"  '^I  am  sure  that  I 
am  right,  for  the  government  statistics  fully  support  my 
contention."  In  all  the  cases  cited,  facts  are  established 
through  direct  testimony,  expert  or  otherwise,  the  testi- 
mony in  several  instances  being  found  in  books  that  are 
considered  authoritative. 

Second,  we  seek  to  prove,  indirectly,  through  the  method 
of  comparison  and  example.    That  is,  the  case  at  hand  is 

compared  with  similar  cases  all  the  facts 
Comparison  .  i  •  i  ^.^  n      x  t 

,  ,        concernmg  which  are,  apparently,  well  estab- 

lished; then  an  inference  is  drawn.  A  young 
man,  for  instance,  may  reason  that  since  two  or  three  of 
his  friends  have  succeeded  in  working  their  way  through 
college,  he  too  should  be  able  to  work  his  way  through. 
In  his  Speech  on  Conciliation  Burke  supports  the  conten- 
tion that  the  American  Colonies  should  be  treated  by  the 
home  government  in  a  certain  way  by  showing  that  this 
method  of  treatment  has  already  been  found  beneficial  in 
four  other  nearly  parallel  cases.  Many  times  it  is  possible 
so  to  multiply  examples  that  general  laws  are  established. 
It  having  been  observed  a  great  many  times  that  plants 
die  when  deprived  of  moisture,  the  law  is  established  that 
moisture  is  necessary  to  all  plant  life.  And  hence  it  follows 
that  a  particular  plant,  for  example  a  geranium,  will  die  if 
deprived  of  moisture.  Less  certainly  we  reason  that  since 
every  child  we  have  ever  known  was  fond  of  sweets, 
all  children  are  fond  of  them,  and  therefore  little  Mary 
must  be  fond  of  them  too. 


ARGUMENT  107 

Third,  we  seek  to  prove  through  establishing  antecedent 
probability.     Will  the  grocer  deliver  his  parcels  before 
twelve?     The  order  was  telephoned  at  the 
usual  hour.    The  grocer  promised  to  deliver        ,   ,  y. 
the  goods  before  noon.     Heretofore  he  has 
kept  his  promises.     It  would  be  to  his  disadvantage  to 
disappoint  a  good  customer.     It  is  not  a  busy  season  of 
the  year;  the  clerk  has  plenty  of  time.     The  streets  are 
not  blocked.     Everything  seems  to  point  to  the  conclu- 
sion that  the  parcels  will  arrive  at  the  proper  hour;  there 
is  a  strong  antecedent  probability  that  they  will. 

This  method  of  reasoning  is  employed  not  only  in  de- 
termining what  is  likely  to  happen,  but  in  determining 
what  in  the  past  caused  a  given  effect.  That  is,  it  is  em- 
ployed not  only  in  reasoning  from  cause  to  effect  but  from 
effect  back  to  cause.  Thus  a  teacher,  finding  his  class. 
poorly  prepared  to  recite,  and  recalling  that,  the  evening 
before,  there  was  a  celebration  of  a  football  victory,  may 
conclude  that  the  poor  recitation  was  due — probably  due — 
to  the  fact  that  the  boys  took  part  in  the  fun  and  did  not 
study.  There  is  an  antecedent  probability  in  favor  of  his 
assumption. 

Fourth,  we  seek  to  prove  by  means  of  what  is  called  argument 
from  sign.    " It  is  raining — I  can  hear  it,"  one  may  say;  or 
"  Henry  has  hurt  his  ankle,  for  he  is  hmping." 
It  is  this  form  that  plays  an  important  part    * ^^^^^^ 
in  court  trials.     No  one  may  have  seen  a 
certain  crime  committed;  yet  it  may  be  possible,  through 
pointing  to  this  sign  and  that,  to  establish  beyond  reason- 
able doubt  that  there  has  been  a  criminal  act. 

Thus  it  is  seen  that,  in  their  simpler  forms,  the  four  ways 
of  proving  things  are  not  difficult  to  understand;  each 
represents  a  trail  very  familiar  to  all  minds.  Perplexity 
arises  only  when  two  or  more  of  these  simple  methpds  of 


108  RHETORIC 

reasoning  are  combined,  and  when  several  interdependent 
propositions  call  for  a  chain  of  reasoning.  Then  the  mind 
may  become  confused  indeed.  Yet  it  is  important  that 
we  should  train  ourselves,  if  not  to  construct  intricate 
arguments,  at  least  to  follow  them,  and  to  detect  courses 
of  reasoning  that  are  weak  or  worthless.  Let  us  consider 
with  unusual  care  some  of  the  pitfalls  of  argument,  begin- 
ning with  direct  evidence,  which,  a  little  thought  will  show, 
must  be  employed  to  some  extent  no  matter  what  form  of 
proof  is  used. 

Direct  evidence.    First,  the  fact  or  facts  in  question  may 

not  be  vouched  for  by  a  sufficient  number  of  witnesses. 

In  matters  of  importance,  we  do  not  always 

. ,  care  to  accept  the  testimony  of  merely  one 

or  two.  Second,  the  witnesses,  though 
numerous,  may  be  incompetent — self-deceived,  blinded 
by  prejudice,  dishonest,  or  for  some  other  reason  untrust- 
worthy. Third,  the  facts  testified  to  may  be  in  themselves 
preposterous,  contrary  to  common  sense,  and  therefore 
not  to  be  accepted  no  matter  how  well  they  are  apparently 
substantiated  by  evidence.  Fourth,  even  if  most  of  the 
facts  in  a  given  case  are  well  established,  some  one  fact 
of  vital  importance,  though  at  first  thought  to  be  trivial, 
may  be  entirely  without  proof. 

Thus  in  weighing  evidence  it  is  necessary  to  ask  the 
following  questions:  (1)  Are  the  facts  vouched  for  by  a 
sufficient  number  of  witnesses?  (2)  Are  the  witnesses 
trustworthy?  (3)  Are  the  facts  testified  to  believable? 
(4)  Have  all  the  facts  been  established  by  proof? 

Argument  through  comparison  and  example.    First,  the 

cases  cited  as  parallel  may,  upon  close  ex- 

p  nson       amination,  prove  to  be  alike  in  unimportant, 

irrelevant    particulars    only;    the    relevant 

points  of  similarity  may  be  outweighed  by  points  of  dis- 


ARGUMENT  109 

similarity,  and  the  analogy  therefore  imperfect.  Second, 
where  examples  are  cited  to  prove  a  general  law  or  rule, 
the  examples  may  be  too  few  in  number.  Third,  examples 
may  have  been  intentionally  or  unintentionally  omitted 
which  point  to  the  contrary  of  the  rule  in  question. 

It  is  well  then  to  ask,  when  weighing  this  form  of  argu- 
ment, (1)  Are  the  cases  cited  as  parallel  really  and  per- 
tinently so?  (2)  Are  the  examples  cited  in  proof  that  a 
rule  or  law  exists  sufficiently  numerous?  (3)  Might  not 
other  examples  be  cited  pointing  to  the  contrary  of  the 
rule  in  question? 

Argument  through  antecedent  probability.  First,  some 
of  the  contributing  causes  may  have  been  overlooked. 
Second,  even  though  all  the  contributing 
causes  have  been  considered,  careful  thought  ^robabil't 
may  show  that  they  are  insufficient  to  war- 
rant the  inference  that  they  will  produce  the  effect  an- 
ticipated. Third,  it  may  be  that  the  contributing  causes 
might  produce  a  different  effect  from  that  in  question. 
Fourth,  in  reasoning  from  effect  back  to  cause,  the  cause 
inferred  may  be  found  upon  examination  not  to  exist, 
or  if  existent,  to  be  insufficient,  or  even  such  as  to  lead 
to  an  effect  different  from  the  one  under  consideration. 
This  last  is  a  confusing  statement,  no  doubt,  yet  it  becomes 
clear  when  we  revert  to  an  earlier  illustration — that  of  the 
poor  recitation  accounted  for  by  a  football  jubilee.  The 
instructor  may  have  been  mistaken;  there  was  no  celebra- 
tion the  night  before,  it  was  postponed.  Even  had  there 
been  one,  it  might  have  proved  insufficient  to  interfere  with 
study.  Finally,  though  perhaps  this  is  possible  rather 
than  probable,  the  fun  might  have  so  cleared  the  brains 
that  they  worked  better  when  at  last  the  lessons  were 
studied. 

These,  then,  are  some  of  the  questions  worth  asking 


110  RHETORIC 

concerning  antecedent  probability:  (1)  Have  any  contrib- 
uting causes  been  overlooked?  (2)  Are  the  assumed  contrib- 
uting causes  sufficient  to  produce  the  effect  anticipated? 

(3)  Might  not  these  causes  produce  some  different  effect? 

(4)  In  reasoning  from  effect  back  to  cause,  is  it  indisputable 
that  the  assumed  cause  existed?  (5)  Is  the  assumed  cause 
sufficient,  or  might  it  not  contribute  to  some  other  effect? 
(6)  Is  there  not  some  other  explanation  that  is  more  plau- 
sible? 

Argument  from  sign.    First,  it  may  be  that  not  all  the 

signs  have  been  considered;  evidence  may  have  been, 

intentionally  or  unintentionally,  withheld. 

rgumen  Second,  the  signs  may  have  been  wrongly 

irom  sigQ  •    n 

mterpreted;  other  inferences  are  possible. 

Third,  the  signs  reported  may  be  too  few  to  warrant 
any  inference.  Thus  in  challenging  this  form  of  argu- 
ment we  ask,  (1)  Have  all  the  signs  been  reported? 
(2)  Have  the  signs  been  interpreted  rightly — is  there  no 
other  inference  possible?  (3)  Are  there  signs  enough  to 
warrant  any  inference? 

In  general.  Careful  scrutiny  may  show  that  though  the 

reasoning,  so  far  as  it  goes,  is  sound,  some  one  little  link 

necessary  to  the  chain  is  missing,  some  asser- 

Infill  flcift^ 

,  tion  has  been  made  for  which  no  proof  has 
been  advanced.  Finally,  and  this  is  often 
the  case,  it  may  be  discovered  that  the  entire  argument  is 
wide  of  the  mark;  it  does  not  establish  quite  the  proposi- 
tion in  question  but  one  easily  mistaken  for  it.  For  ex- 
ample, instead  of  proving  that  a  small  college  offers  better 
advantages  to  the  average  student  than  a  large  college, 
a  line  of  argument  may  but  prove  that  the  small  college  is 
better  for  a  particular  type  of  student. 

The  foregoing  exposition  of  the  forms  of  proof  and  the 
fallacies  commonly  found  in  connection  with  them  is  ex- 


ARGUMENT  111 

ceedingly  brief  and  elementary;  fuller  treatment  of  the 

subject  may  be  found  in  such  manuals  as  Baker's  Principles 

of  Argumentation,  Alden's  Art  of  Debate,   and  Foster's 

Essentials  of  Exposition  and  Argument.    Equally  brief  and 

elementary  must  be  the  advice  offered  in  regard  to  writing 

argumentative  compositions. 

First,  study  the  proposition  to  see  precisely  what  task  it 

imposes.    Without  such  study,  one  is  likely  to  fall  into 

the  error  of  attempting  to  prove  more  than 

is  necessary.     Matters  which  at  first  seem       "  ^^? 

,      c.  .  proposition 

relevant  and  of  greatest  importance  may, 

after  all,  lie  beyond  the  province  of  this  particular  dis- 
cussion. Other  matters,  though  relevant,  may  belong  to 
that  neutral  ground  found  in  every  controversy — ground 
over  which  flies  the  flag  of  truce.  It  is  a  waste  of  time 
to  construct  elaborate  argument  to  prove  points  which 
those  whom  we  wish  to  convince  are  willing  to  grant  with- 
out argument.  In  short,  narrow  the  task  to  its  strictest 
limits.  ''This,  and  this  only,  must  be  proved,"  the  writer 
should  be  able  to  say,  before  setting  about  his  task. 

Second,  think  out  a  plan — a  provisional  or  temporary 
plan.    Here  are  some  of  the  questions  arising  in  this  second 
step.   What  lines  of  proof  are  possible?   What    Adopting  a 
evidence  might  be  offered  that  would  carry    provisional 
conviction?    Where  must  attack  be  guarded    P^^° 
against?    What  points  must  be  supported  with  greatest 
care  and  earnestness?    What,  in  brief,  is  the  best  way  of 
accomplishing  the  task  at  hand?    Eventually  this  provi- 
sional plan  may  be  discarded  for  a  better  one,  but  for 
many  reasons  it  is  well  to  do  this  preliminary  thinking  and 
to  do  it  independently. 

Third,  study  the  subject  out  of  which  the  proposition  grows. 
Usually  there  are  facts  to  be  ascertained,  authorities  to 
be  consulted.     Others  have  discussed  the  same  problem; 


112  RHETORIC 

what  views  have  they  expressed  and  what  lines  of  proof 
have  they  considered  effective?    Study  both  sides  of  the 

question.  And  during  this  period  of  in- 
the  suTkct        vestigation,  keep  clearly  in  mind  the  two 

steps  previously  mentioned.  Confine  re- 
search to  the  one  task  at  hand;  test  the  provisional  plan 
at  every  step,  holding  to  it  somewhat  stubbornly,  yet 
yielding  when  fully  convinced  that  a  better  has  been  dis- 
covered. 

Fourth,  construct  a  final  plan.  Presumably  the  study  of 
the  subject  will  have  imparted  light.    New  lines  of  proof 

may  have  been  discovered,  old  lines  shown 
a  &ial  Dlan        ^^  ^^  weak.    Probably,  too,  ideas  have  come 

concerning  what  will  be  the  most  effective 
order  in  which  to  present  arguments,  a  matter  of  great 
importance. 

Generally  speaking,  we  convince  others  that  our  views 

are  right  by  leading  their  minds  along  practically  the  same 

f         path  we  ourselves  have  followed,  stopping 

now  and  then  to  warn  against  alluring  side- 
paths  which  lead  to  false  conclusions,  or  to  show  that  what 
seems  an  obstacle  is  but  a  shadow.  First,  then,  the  ques- 
tion should  be  explained  with  a  view  to  pointing  out  pre- 
cisely what  is  to  be  proved.  Next  it  is  well  to  indicate  in  a 
general  way  the  lines  of  proof  to  be  employed,  that  the 
argument  may  be  followed  the  more  readily.  Yet  it  is  not 
always  wise  to  reveal  everything  at  the  outset,  especially 
when  addressing  those  who  are  prejudiced;  there  are  even 
times  when  it  is  best  to  omit  entirely  this  preliminary 
outlining  of  the  intended  course. 

The  question  clearly  explained  and  the  general  plan  of 
proof  to  be  followed  briefly  outlined,  time  should  be  taken 
to  present  the  pertinent  facts.  That  is,  such  information 
should  be  given  as  the  reader  must  possess  before  he  can 


ARGUMENT  113 

be  expected  to  see  the  force  of  the  argument  to  be  ad- 
vanced.   Presenting  pertinent  facts — all  of  them — and  ex- 
plaining their  significance  in  a  systematic, 
,...,.  i.t-        u  1       Statement 

discrimmatmg  manner,    though  commonly    ^^  ^^^^ 

considered  a  preliminary  step,  is  not  seldom 
the  most  vital  part  of  an  argumentative  speech  or  essay. 
That  this  is  true,  any  one  may  see  by  .studying  such  a  mas- 
terpiece as  Burke's  Speech  on  Conciliation.  Moreover 
common  experience  teaches  that  it  is  true — true  since 
people  disagree  mainly  because  all  are  not  equally  well 
informed,  and  are  not  equally  gifted  in  their  powers  of 
interpreting  facts  and  seeing  their  significance.  Hence  a 
careful  statement  of  facts  is  almost  always  necessary. 

Finally,  the  various  lines  of  proof  should  be  presented, 
in  whatever  order  seems  best  for  the  occasion.  It  may  be 
necessary  to  begin  with  a  proof  that  is  . 
reasonably  strong,  for  attention  must  be 
captured  at  once  if  at  all;  but  when  it  is  possible  to 
do  so  and  hold  attention  from  the  outset,  it  is  best  to  use 
the  climax  order,  the  most  telling  argument  being  reserved 
till  the  last.  As  to  when  possible  objections  should  be 
met,  there  can  be  no  hard  and  fast  rule  save  this  general 
one:  meet  them  as  soon  as  it  is  suspected  that  they  are 
interfering  with  the  reception  of  the  proof,  sometimes  even 
anticipating  them,  giving  them  no  chance  to  become 
deeply  rooted.  That  is,  at  all  times  keep  the  way  clear 
to  a  right  conclusion.  If  the  argument  is  long  and  intri- 
cate, review  the  steps  from  time  to  time,  and  close  with 
a  careful  summary. 

Fifth,  pay  careful  attention  to  verbal  expression.    A  well 
planned   argument  may  prove   ineffectual   because   im- 
properly phrased.    Weak  or  awkward  sen- 
tences,  rambling  or  ambiguous  statements, 
feeble  repetition, — whatever  detracts  because  crude  or 


114  RHETORIC 

delays  because  difficult  to  understand,  mars  the  ef- 
fect of  even  the  most  carefully  thought-out  argu- 
ment. 

Here  are  a  number  of  final  cautions:  1.  Remembering 
that  he  who  affirms  must  prove,  accept  the  burden  of 

^.  ,  ^.  proof  if  your  task  requires  it.  If  your  task 
Final  cautions    ^  /  •       •.     i  .  ^u     u 

does  not  require  it,  do  not  assume  the  bur- 
den. 2.  Remember  that  saying  a  thing  twenty  times 
over  does  not  make  it  true.  An  assertion  remains  an 
assertion  and  nothing  more  till  its  truth  or  falsity  has  been 
proved.  3.  Do  not  rest  content  with  a  single  line  of  proof 
if  several  lines  are  available.  On  the  other  hand,  remember 
that  one  point  driven  home  through  forceful  illustration 
or  through  varied  restatement  is  far  better  than  many 
points  weakly  enforced.  4.  Remember  that  bare  statistics 
seldom  take  hold;  to  be  effective  they  must  be  interpreted, 
translated  into  pictures  that  appeal  to  the  emotions. 
5.  Study  not  only  the  question  but  those  for  whom  the 
argument  is  intended.  How  can  they  be  reached?  What 
arguments  will  appeal  to  them?  What  must  be  avoided 
lest  offense  be  given  needlessly?  How  can  the  emotions  be 
stirred?  Think  of  yourself  as  a  commander,  not  one  who 
is  planning  a  campaign  on  paper  against  an  imaginary  foe, 
but  one  who  is  actually  attacking  a  stronghold,  that  can 
be  taken  only  through  the  strictest  economy  of  ammuni- 
tion and  through  shrewdly  directing  fire  against  weak 
points  here  and  there  in  the  defense.  6.  Remember  that 
dignity,  earnestness,  courtesy,  and  plain  honesty  are  far 
better  weapons  than  ridicule,  cheap  jocularity,  indeed 
than  all  attempts  to  be  facetious.  Shrewd  one  must 
be,  not  only  thinking  clearly  but  adapting  the  argu- 
ment to  the  occasion  and  to  those  addressed,  appeal- 
ing not  only  to  reason  but  to  the  emotions;  yet  it 
should  never  be  forgotten  that  an  unmistakable  desire 


ARGUMENT  115 

to  be  fair  is,  in  the  long  run,  worth  twenty  "tricks  of 
the  trade." 

NoTK. — In  the  Appendix  may  be  found  a  specimen  brief. 

EXERCISES 

1  Much  of  this  world's  misery  is  due  to  the  fact  that  the 
average  person  is  so  untrained  in  logic  that  he  is  swept 
along  day  after  day  by  cleverly  disguised  fallacies — falla- 
cies which,  when  stripped  of  their  disguise,  seem  but 
laughable.  Probably  there  is  not  a  chain  of  reasoning 
to  be  found  in  the  list  below  that  has  not  figured  hundreds 
of  times  even  in  matters  where  much  was  at  stake.  Point 
out  in  each  instance  why  the  proof  is  unsatisfactory. 
Make  this  a  task  in  careful,  logical  exposition. 

1.  It  must  be  true,  for  every  one  says  so. 

2.  My  friend's  friend's  friend  says  it  is  so;  therefore  it  must 
be  so. 

3.  It  must  be  true,  for  I  read  it  in  a  book. 

4.  You  should  hear  my  grandfather  tell  of  the  cold  weather  of 
his  boyhood  days.    Our  winters  must  be  growing  milder. 

5.  "Pooh!  pooh!"  repeated  the  goldfish  as  he  gently  bumped 
his  nose  here  and  there  against  his  little  glass  jar;  "say  what 
they  will,  the  world  is  a  very  small  world, — some  three  times  my 
length  at  most!" 

6.  It  is  a  wonderfully  rich  mine;  the  broker  who  sold  me  stock 
in  it  says  so. 

7.  The  first  witness  says  the  prisoner  was  with  him  in  Boston  ;- 
the  second  witness  says  he  saw  the  prisoner  that  day  in  Los 
Angeles.     Therefore  either  the  prisoner  was  in  two  places  at 
the  same  time,  or  else  there  are  two  of  him. 

8.  As  the  mercury  fell,  the  air  grew  colder;  therefore  the  colder 
temperature  was  caused  by  the  falling  mercury. 

9.  The  night  I  occupied  room  thirteen,  war  broke  out  in  China; 
therefore  thirteen  is  an  unlucky  number. 

10.  As  the  dervish  added  one  more  straw  to  the  load,  the 
camel  crumpled  up;  therefore  a  single  straw  broke  the  camel's 
back, 


116  RHETORIC 

11.  After  taking  one  bottle  of  your  remedy,  I  feel  as  well  as 
ever;  therefore  I  recommend  it  most  confidently  to  all. 

12.  Great  oaks  from  little  acorns  grow;  therefore  if  I  plant 
an  acorn,  it  will  grow  into  a  great  oak. 

13.  All  boys  torment  cats;  therefore  the  new  neighbor's  boy 
will  torment  my  cat. 

14.  "A  bad  beginning  makes  a  good  ending,"  remarked  the 
man  as  he  viewed  the  wreck  of  his  new  machine;  "therefore 
a  good  ending  to  my  journey  is  assured." 

15.  It  is  a  stupid  book;  I  have  been  unable  to  get  beyond  the 
first  chapter. 

16.  How  ignorant  Chaucer  must  have  been;  just  see  how  he 
spells  the  commonest  words! 

17.  All  the  lobsters  I  have  ever  seen  were  red;  therefore  all 
lobsters  are  red. 

18.  Never  again  shall  I  trust  a  blue-eyed  man;  this  is  the 
third  one  to  deceive  me. 

19.  Father  does  it,  so  it  is  all  right  for  me  to  do. 

20.  Johnson,  when  a  boy,  read  what  he  pleased;  if  I  read  what 
I  please,  I  shall  be  great  Uke  Johnson. 

21.  Ever  so  many  have  made  money  through  buying  stocks 
on  margin;  therefore  if  I  buy  stocks  I  shall  become  wealthy. 

22.  There  goes  the  doctor;  someone  is  ill. 

23.  Mother  advised  me  not  to  wear  my  thin  dress,  lest  I  take 
cold.    I  wore  it,  but  took  no  cold.    Therefore  I  know  best. 

24.  If  he  were  innocent,  he  would  willingly  tell  all  that  he 
knows  about  the  crime. 

25.  His  hat  and  coat  were  found  on  the  river  bank;  therefore 
the  insurance  company  should  pay  his  wife  the  face  of  the  poUcy. 

26.  I  feel  just  as  well  as  I  did  ten  years  ago — better,  in  fact; 
I  shall  live  forever. 

2  If  one  would  be  fair-minded,  he  must  learn  to  look 
at  both  sides  of  every  question.  Good  statesmanship 
as  well  as  good  business  management  is  in  large  measure 
simply  a  matter  of  weighing  carefully  all  advantages  and 
disadvantages — the  ins  and  outs — of  each  proposed  move. 
Write  down  and  number  all  the  advantages  and  dis- 
advantages associated  with  one  of  the  items  found  below, 
arranging  them  in  the  order  of  their  importance  to  you. 


ARGUMENT  117 

Compare  the  two  lists  and  reach  a  conclusion.  Prepare 
to  present  the  entire  matter  orally  to  the  class.  Employ 
concrete  illustrations  if  you  can. 

1.  Owning  a  dog.  13.  Having  an  emotional  tem- 

2.  Being  the  youngest  in  the  perament. 

family.  14.  Giving  prizes  for  scholar- 

3.  Being  a  millionaire.  ship. 

4.  Being  popular.  15.  Employing  the  card  sys- 

5.  Being  fond  of  reading.  'tem  in  keeping  accounts. 

6.  Living  in  the  city.  16.  Having    Saturday    as    a 

7.  Living  in  the  country.  school   holiday. 

8.  Being  good  natured.  17.  Fireplaces. 

9.  Owning  an  automobile.  18.  Wireless  telegraphy. 
10.  Attending  a  small  college.  19.  Owning  a  telephone. 
IL  Attending  a  private  school.  20.  Free  textbooks. 

12.  Paying  by  check.  21.  Saving  one's  allowance. 

3  Come  to  class  prepared  to  discuss  informally  any 
three  of  the  following  questions,  in  each  case  defending 
your  views  by  argument.  Lest  some  of  your  thoughts 
slip  away,  it  will  be  well  to  bring  with  you  brief  notes. 

1.  When  writing  a  composition,  is  it  best  to  imagine  that  you 
are  addressing  some  particular  person  or  group  of  persons? 

2.  When  writing  a  composition,  is  it  well  to  keep  in  mind  a 
model? 

3.  To  what  extent  is  it  wise  to  make  use  of  quotations? 

4.  What  are  the  advantages  and  the  disadvantages  of  illustra- 
tions in  story  books? 

5.  What  are  the  advantages  and  what  are  the  disadvantages 
of  writing  in  the  first  person  when  telling  a  story? 

6.  In  telling  a  story,  is  it  well  to  begin  with  a  description  of 
the  scene  of  the  action  and  a  brief  account  of  the  actors? 

7.  In  drama,  the  dramatist  never  appears.  When  telling  a 
story  in  the  third  person,  should  the  novehst  ever  speak  directly 
to  his  readers? 

8.  Which  is  the  strongest  force  in  story-telling — pathos,  humor, 
adventure,  or  love? 

9.  What  are  the  essentials  of  a  good  story? 

10.  What  are  the  essentials  of  a  good  play? 


118  RHETORIC 

4  Bring  to  class  a  brief  but  carefully  considered  answer 
to  one  of  the  following  questions.  Be  prepared  to  defend 
your  answer  by  argument  and  to  refute  all  objections 
that  may  be  raised. 

1.  Is  it  right  to  buy  a  paper  from  a  newsgirl  under  twelve 
years  of  age? 

2.  Should  high  school  students  twenty-one  years  or  more  old 
be  permitted  to  take  part  in  interscholastic  contests? 

3.  Ought  one  pupil  to  report  another  whom  he  has  seen  cheat- 
ing in  examination? 

4.  In  a  club  debate  is  it  right  for  one  to  defend  a  proposition 
against  his  convictions? 

5.  Is  it  right  to  "study  together"? 

6.  Is  it  right  for  a  runner  to  "cut"  second  base  if  he  can  do 
so  without  being  observed  by  the  umpire? 

7.  An  article  submitted  for  publication  in  the  school  paper 
is  discovered  to  be  copied  from  an  old  magazine.  What  should 
the  editors  do  ^bout  it?  If  the  imposture  is  not  discovered  till 
after  the  article  is  pubhshed,  what  should  be  done? 

8.  After  a  series  of  defeats  due  in  part  to  a  number  of  accidents, 
the  school  football  team  cancels  its  engagement  to  play  with 

the  team  in  X .    It  does  so  remembering  that  under  similar 

circumstances  the  team  from  X once  canceled  a  game  at 

the  last  moment.    The  manager  in  X writes  that  the  game 

has  been  advertised;  to  cancel  it  will  disappoint  many,  leave 
the  team  crippled  financially,  and  will  be  considered  highly  dis- 
courteous. Probably  because  irritated,  he  is  far  from  polite. 
What  ought  the  manager  of  the  crippled  team  to  do? 

9.  Is  it  right  to  get  help  when  doing  an  original  problem  in 
geometry? 

10.  Is  it  right  to  pick  fruit  from  branches  overhanging  the 
highway? 

11.  Is  it  right  to  play  ball  on  Sunday? 

12.  John,  while  cruising,  finds  a  rowboat  adrift.  It  will  soon 
be  dashed  against  the  rocks  and  destroyed.  He  secures  it  and 
proceeds  on  his  cruise  without  turning  back  to  find  the  owner. 
Later  on,  he  loses  the  boat.    Has  John  done  right? 

13.  Did  Portia  do  right  in  rescuing  Antonio  from  the  clutches 
of  Shylock  by  means  of  a  mere  quibble? 


ARGUMENT  119 

14.  A  collector  of  old  china  asks  a  housekeeper  to  set  a  price 
on  a  certain  pitcher.  Upon  her  saying  that  she  does  not  care 
to  sell  it,  he  offers  five  dollars  for  it.  She  bought  it  at  the  country- 
store  for  thirty-five  cents.   Is  it  right  for  her  to  accept  his  offer? 

5  Come  to  class  prepared  to  discuss  two  or  three  of 
the  following,  these  to  be  selected  by  the  instructor: 

1.  To  what  extent,  if  any,  is  slang  permissible? 

2.  Should  girls  study  chemistry  and  physics? 

3.  Should  football  be  played  in  secondary  schools? 

4.  Is  sarcasm  ever  permissible? 

5.  Are  interscholastic  debates  a  good  thing? 

6.  Should  gentlemen  invariably  give  up  their  seats  to  ladies, 
when  public  conveyances  are  crowded? 

7.  To  what  extent  is  it  wise  to  buy  books  when  one  has  access 
to  a  good  hbrary? 

8.  Why  is  it  wise  to  own  one's  books,  even  though  the  town 
furnishes  free  textbooks? 

4.  What  should  be  done  with  the  money  earned  by  a  school 
paper? 

10.  Which  of  our  athletic  games  will  remain  popular  during 
the  next  ten  years? 

11.  Who  are  looked  up  to  in  the  high  school  world? 

12.  Which  exerts  greater  power,  editor  or  orator? 

13.  Does  poetry  decline  as  civilization  advances? 

14.  A,  for  sufficient  consideration,  agrees  to  convey  to  B  a 
lot  of  land  with  house,  but  before  the  contract  can  be  carried 
out  the  house  burns  down.    What  are  the  rights  of  the  parties? 

6  Outline  briefly  the  course  you  would  take  in  proving, 
by  direct  evidence  or  an  appeal  to  authority,  each  of  the 
following : 

1.  Plymouth  was  settled  in  1620. 

2.  Our  city  needs  (or  does  not  need)  a  new  high  school  building. 

3.  The  Titanic  disaster  was  due  to  neghgence. 

4.  The  South  is  rapidly  regaining  her  old-time  prosperity. 

5.  Our  school  building  is  adequately  protected  against  fire. 

6.  In  our  school,  athletics  do  not  interfere  with  good  scholar- 
ship. 

7.  The  trend  of  migration  is  ever  westward. 


120  RHETORIC 

8.  Our  city  improves  year  by  year. 

9.  Electric  lines  tend  to  develop  rural  districts. 

10.  The  high  cost  of  Hving  is  due  to . 

7  Select  one  of  the  following  propositions  and  defend 
it  by  argument  from  analogy  or  example: 

1.  Appearances  are  often  deceptive. 

2.  Uneasy  rests  the  head  that  wears  a  crown. 

3.  A  country's  strength  hes  in  its  peasantry. 

4.  Sleeping  in  the  open  air  will  improve  my  health. 

5.  A  skilled  coach  is  necessary  for  success  in  athletics. 

6.  A  soft  answer  turneth  away  wrath. 

7.  It  pays  to  advertise. 

8.  The  extravagance  of  the  rich  adds  to  the  suffering  of  the 
poor. 

9.  The  honor  system  would  succeed  in  our  school. 

10.  It  is  possible  for  one  of  humble  origin  to  rise  to  high  po- 
sition. 

8  Select  one  of  the  following  propositions  and  try  to 
establish  it  by  means  of  argument  from  antecedent  proba- 
bility.   Be  careful  to  leave  no  assertion  unsupported. 

1.  Our  school  will  be  fifty  percent  larger  ten  years  hence. 

2.  Our  team  will  win  in  the  coming  contest. 

3.  Flying-machines  will  in  time  be  commonly  used  as  a  means 
of  public  conveyance. 

4.  The  parcel  post  will  prove  a  success. 

5.  All  colleges  will  eventually  admit  by  certificate. 

6.  Camping  out  will  grow  in  popularity. 

7.  Woman's  suffrage  will  soon  be  adopted  by  every  state. 

8.  England  will  never  again  go  to  war  against  the  United 
States. 

9.  The  present  good  times  are  due  to . 

10.  The  reason  so  many  fail  to  complete  their  high  school 
course  is . 

11.  Disastrous  spring  freshets  are  due  to  improper  protection 
of  watersheds. 

12.  The  tone  of  public  morals  is  being  lowered  by  the 
stage. 


ARGUMENT  121 

13.  American  travelers  are  responsible  for  the  unfavorable 
impression  of  America  held  by  foreign  nations. 

14.  Country  property  will  continue  to  increase  in  value. 

9  Describe  a  room — if  possible,  one  you  have  actually 
seen;  then  let  your  classmates  determine  the  character 
of  the  person  who  occupies  the  room. 

10  Describe  a  person — his  build,  his  gait,  his  dress, 
his  facial  expression;  then  let  your  classmates  determine 
his  profession  and  character. 

11  Examine  a  picture,  one  suggesting  a  story;  then  guess 
out,  from  the  hints  furnished,  the  entire  story. 

12  Make  up  a  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  pointing 
to  a  crime,  purposely  leaving  out  one  link;  then  let  your 
classmates  discover  the  link. 

13  Make  up  a  case  for  a  mock  trial  depending  wholly 
on  circumstantial  evidence;  then  let  the  class  decide 
whether  the  case  gives  approximately  even  chances  for 
conviction  and  acquittal. 

14  Write  down  three  arguments  supporting  the  affirma- 
tive and  three  supporting  the  negative  of  any  one  of  the 
following  propositions,  arranging  the  arguments  in  climax 
order.  In  stating  an  argument,  use  this  form:  Vivisection 
should  he  prohibited  hy  law,  for  [Here  should  follow  the 
reason  advanced]. 

1.  Vivisection  should  be  prohibited  by  law. 

2.  Children  should  not  be  taught  to  believe  in  the  Santa  Claus 
myth. 

3.  Except  for  the  purpose  of  destroying  harmful  animals  or 
for  the  piu'pose  of  obtaining  necessary  food,  hunting  is  morally 
wrong. 

15  Selecting  some  one  of  the  points  recorded  in  exer- 
cise 14,  give  it  such  verbal  expression  as  will  make  it 


122  RHETORIC 

appeal  strongly  to  the  emotions.  Employ  narration  or 
description  if  it  seems  best,  forget  all  about  formal  argu- 
ment addressed  solely  to  the  intellect;  direct  your  energy 
to  the  one  purpose  of  making  the  argument  stir  the 
feelings. 

16  Come  to  class  prepared  to  discuss  informally  some 
proposition  previously  agreed  upon,  perhaps  one  from  the 
list  found  below.  Whenever  an  argument  has  been  stated 
clearly,  the  instructor  may  think  best  to  write  it  in  con- 
densed form  on  the  blackboard,  afterwards  drawing  a 
line  through  it,  should  it  be  fairly  refuted.  At  the  close 
of  the  period  the  class  will  decide  whether  the  affirmative 
or  the  negative  has  received  the  better  support. 

1.  For  the  average  person,  tennis  is  a  better  game  than  golf. 

2.  Managing  a  school  paper  furnishes  a  more  valuable  training 
than  managing  an  athletic  association. 

3.  Military  tactics  should  be  taught  in  public  high  schools. 

4.  Two  half-holidays  in  the  school  week  would  be  better  than 
one  whole  holiday. 

5.  The  public  should  have  free  access  to  the  book  shelves  in 
our  public  library. 

6.  For  the  average  young  man,  a  small  college  like  Amherst 
or  Williams  is  better  than  a  large  institution  like  Harvard  or 
Chicago  University. 

7.  The  country  is  a  better  place  for  a  college  than  is  a  city. 

8.  An  editorship  of  a  school  paper  affords  more  valuable  train- 
ing than  does  membership  in  a  school  debating  club. 

9.  Silas  Marner  is  a  greater  piece  of  fiction  than  The  Vicar  of 
Wakefield, 

17  Let  some  one  be  appointed  to  prepare  a  fifteen 
minute  defense  of  a  proposition  agreed  upon  by  the 
class.  Let  the  remaining  members  prepare  to  overthrow 
this  defense.  The  first  speaker  should  be  given  five 
minutes  at  the  close  of  the  hour  for  rebuttal;  that  is, 
for  answering  the  arguments  brought  up  against  him. 


ARGUMENT  123 

18  The  instructor  may  see  fit  to  appoint  four  speakers, 
two  to  support  the  affirmative  and  two  the  negative  of 
one  of  the  following  propositions,  the  assignments  being 
made  at  least  a  week  in  advance  of  the  debate. 

1.  Each  state  should  support  a  college  free  to  all  residents  of 
the  state. 

2.  All  young  men  should  be  taught  the  use  of  firearms. 

3.  Works  of  art  should  be  admitted  to  this  country  free  of  duty. 

4.  Capital  punishment  should  be  abohshed. 

5.  United  States  senators  should  be  elected  by  direct  vote  of 
the  people. 

6.  The  use  of  all  kinds  of  explosives  on  July  Fourth  should  be 
prohibited. 

7.  Laws  should  be  passed  prohibiting  the  carrying  of  freight 
by  electric  cars  through  public  highways. 

19  Let  each  member  of  the  class  prepare  a  written, 
eight  hundred  word  defense  of  a  proposition  selected  from 
the  following  list: 

1.  Permanent  copyright  should  be  granted  by  the  United 
States. 

2.  Political  cartoons  should  be  prohibited  by  law. 

3.  Comic  illustrations  now  found  in  our  daily  papers  are  a 
menace  to  pubhc  morals. 

4.  Our  school  should  have  an  athletic  field. 

5.  Our  school  should  support  a  crew. 

6.  Public  libraries  and  art  galleries  should  be  open  on  Sundays. 

7.  Monday  would  be  better  than  Saturday  for  a  school  holiday. 

8.  Prose  fiction  exerts  a  greater  influence  today  than  drama. 

9.  Dogs  possess  intelligence. 

10.  A  sailing  craft  affords  greater  pleasure  than  a  power  boat. 

11.  The  EngUsh  conception  of  what  constitutes  true  sport 
is  nobler  than  the  American  conception. 

12.  The  recently  proposed  spelling  reform  is  worthy  of  support. 

13.  The  girls  of  our  school  should  give  financial  support  to 
the  athletic  association. 

14.  The  dramatist  performs  a  more  difficult  task  than  the 
actor. 


124  RHETORIC 

15.  Football  is  a  brutal  sport. 

16.  School  journalism  is  not  worth  while. 

17.  Honesty  is  still  the  best  poHcy. 

18.  Our  school  should  take  part  in  interscholastic  debates. 

19.  Commercial  prosperity  tends  to  lower  moral  standards. 

20.  Public  libraries  should  contain  none  but  standard  works. 


PART  II 
THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 


CHAPTER  XI 
READING 

There  was  a  time,  long  centuries  ago,  when  it  was  no 
uncommon  thing  for  a  person  to  go  through  life  without 
ever  learning  to  read.     Books  there  were,    Before  tlie 
some  of  them  very  beautiful,  skilfully  penned    days  of 
and  "  illuminated  "  in  the  scriptoria  (writing-    printing 
rooms)  of  monasteries;  but  the  choicest  of  these  were  for 
kings  and  queens  and  nobles,  and  a  very  few  volumes 
sufficed  for  even  a  royal  library.     Among  the  common 
people,  the  place  of  books  was  supplied,  though  imper- 
fectly, by  fireside  tales,  spirited  ballads,  the  romantic 
songs  of  the  minstrel,  and  the  miscellaneous  chat  of  friars, 
peddlers,  and  other  wayfarers. 

That  was  before  the  days  of  Caxton,  England^s  earliest 

printer.    Since  then  the  world  has  seen  many  marvels,  but 

nothing  more  truly  wonderful  than  the  rapid 

u         £  ,-,  1  J      What  orinting 

increase  m  number  oi  those  who  can  read,    t,     j  " 

the  amazing  quantity  of  matter  that  comes 

daily  from  the  press,  and  the  ease  with  which  even  the 

poorest    may    provide    himself   with    the   best   that   is 

printed.    A  few  pennies  will  buy  almost  any  classic,  and 

there  are  free  libraries  everywhere.     Thousands  of  new 

books  every  year,  a  multitude  of  magazines  good  and  bad, 

newspapers  without  number, — what  a  vast  quantity  of 

print  it  all  makes,  and  how  mighty  its  influence!    It  is 

true  beyond  question,  though  how  seldom  we  give  it  a 

thought,  that  the  happiness  and  usefulness  of  the  average 

person  depend  quite  as  much  on  the  attitude  he  takes 

towards  this  great  influence  as  upon  any  other  single 

127 


128  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

factor.  The  purpose  of  this  chapter  is  to  review  some  of 
the  benefits  to  be  derived  from  reading  and  some  of  the 
attendant  dangers,  and  to  make  a  few  suggestions  in  regard 
to  forming  safe  reading  habits. 

The  most  obvious  of  all  benefits  is  pleasure — pure  pleas- 
ure entirely  free  from  any  idea  of  improvement.    We  turn 

to  books  and  magazines  for  much  the  same 
Benefits:  xu   ^         •   •  j 

,  reason  that  we  join  a  merry  crowd,  or  engage 

m  sports,  or  tramp  through  the  woods.  It  is 
a  common  way  of  having  a  good  time.  Amusement,  enter- 
tainment, recreation — these  form  one  of  the  many  missions 
of  literature.  It  seeks  out  those  who  are  bound  by  hard 
circumstances  and  makes  them  forget  their  misfortunes. 
The  poor  forget  their  poverty  and  roam  through  palaces 
of  luxury;  the  physically  weak  follow  giants  up  mountain 
sides;  the  timid  feel  at  home  in  the  presence  of  kings  and 
queens.  It  seeks  out  the  vigorous  and  fortunate  too, 
bringing  pleasure  to  all.  Viewed  in  this  light  alone,  what 
a  world-wide  calamity  it  would  be  should  all  books, 
through  wicked  magic,  be  destroyed. 

But  there  are  higher  benefits.    How  dependent  we  are 
upon  books  for  facts  and  ideas.    Little  should  we  know 

were  we  forced  to  rely  solely  on  our  own 
. .  senses  and  the  reports  of  the  comparatively 

few  people  one  can  meet  in  a  single  lifetime. 
How  little  thinking,  of  a  truly  independent  kind,  is  done  by 
the  average  individual.  We  all  have  ideas  which  we  call 
our  own,  but  for  the  most  part  they  are  merely  ours  by 
adoption;  they  come,  directly  or  indirectly,  from  books. 
And  this  leads  naturally  to  a  sober  reflection :  he  who  reads 
little  is  apt  to  live  a  little  life.  His  range  of  information 
is  so  narrow,  his  stock  of  ideas  so  meager,  that  he  is  poorly 
equipped  to  do  great  things.  He  can  hardly  hope  to  keep 
pace  with  those  who  are  ''well  read." 


READING  129 

Above  facts  and  ideas  are  universal  truths  and  lofty 
ideals,  which  form  the  essence  of  all  good  literature. 
Silas  Marner  is  more  than  an  entertaining 
story;   shining   through   the   narrative  are    .,    , 
certain  great  life-truths.     As  we  read  the 
tragic  story  of  Macbeth's  downfall,  or  of  Lancelot's  guilty 
love  for  the  faithless  Queen,  or  of  how  Sidney  Carton  gave 
up  his  life  to  save  Charles  Darnay,  we  are  conscious  of  a 
moral  influence.    Heroes  and  heroines  are  but  conceptions 
of  ideal  manhood  and  womanhood.     Consciously  or  un- 
consciously we  imitate  them  and  try  to  live  up  to  their 
standards  of  courage  and  unselfishness.    Reading  a  good 
book  has  been  the  turning-point  in  many  a  life. 

Through  reading  comes  power  of  many  kinds,  but  no- 
tably the  power  to  think.     Following  a  line  of  thought 
through  page  after  page  calls  for  mental 
effort,  and  by  exercise  of  this  nature  the    ^^^^ 
mind   grows   alert.     Each   book  mastered 
makes  the  next  one  easier  to  master;  and  ability  to  think 
books  through  leads  to  ability  to  think  where  books  are  not 
concerned.    Moreover  thought  arouses  thought.    Reading 
"sets  us  thinking,"  not  uncommonly  about  many  things 
only  remotely  suggested  by  the  printed  page;  and  we  learn 
to  apply  to  our  own  special  problems  the  methods  of 
thought  that  we  have  observed  in  books.    For  there  are 
effectual  ways  of  thinking  just  as  there  are  effectual  ways 
of  doing  everything  else,  and  these  ways  must  be  learned. 

With  power  to  think  is  developed  power  to  appreciate. 
Literature  is  a  form  of  art;  it  deals  with  ** beautiful  thought 
and  beautiful  feeling  beautifully  expressed." 
But  taste  is  largely  a  matter  of  training.      ^^^^  ^ 
There  are  childhood  years  when  nothing 
sounds  quite  so  sweet  as  the  street  piano;  and  many  in- 
dividuals, through  lack  of  training,  never  learn  to  prefer 


130  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

anything  better.  It  is  the  same  with  reading.  Childhood 
preferences  follow  some  through  life;  the  higher  forms  of 
literature  bring  no  pleasure,  for  their  beauty  is  not  per- 
ceived. Such  individuals  are  inclined  to  scoff  at  those 
who  profess  to  gain  pleasure  from  poetry;  but  it  is  merely  a 
case  of  the  blind  deriding  those  whose  vision  is  clear. 
Nothing  is  more  real  than  the  enjoyment  which  comes  to 
the  few  who  through  years  of  faithful  reading  have  devel- 
oped their  sense  of  appreciation.  Nor  is  this  enjoyment 
confined  to  the  reading  of  books.  Literature  is  but  a 
mirror.  When  we  turn  from  the  printed  page  to  the  real 
world,  we  are  better  able  to  perceive  truth  and  beauty 
which  to  many  lie  forever  hidden. 

Finally,  there  comes  power  of  expression.    Each  good 
book  mastered  adds  to  the  vocabulary  a  few  terms.    Un- 
consciously we  acquire  a  phraseology  the 
Power  to  1.      r         .      .         r  .         ^-        ^u 

result  01  centuries  of  experimentmg  on  the 

cXJix  cSS 

part  of  masters  striving  after  effective  ex- 
pression. Our  crudities  slowly  disappear.  We  learn 
through  example  how  to  hold  to  logical  or  dramatic  se- 
quence, how  to  approach  a  subject  from  different  angles, 
how  to  win  attention  and  keep  it. 

Pure,  temporary  pleasure;  an  abundant  store  of  facts 
and  ideas;  the  broadening  and  refining  influence  of  lofty 

ideals  and  universal  truths;  power  to  think, 
riz  d      PC>wer  to  appreciate,  power  to  express:  these 

are  benefits  to  be  derived  from  reading.  But 
there  are  attendant  dangers  so  serious  that  they  deserve 
careful  consideration. 

First,  it  is  possible  to  waste,  through  reading,  time  and 
Dangers:  energy  which  might  better  be  spent  in  other 

waste  of  ways.     Life  is  short.     Intemperate  indul- 

time  gence  in  reading  is  as  deplorable  as  other 

forms  of  gluttony. 


READING  131 

Second,— and  very  important, — intemperate  reading,  if 
long  continued,  impairs  the  memory.    It  cannot  be  other- 
wise.   This  is  particularly  true  of  omniv- 
orous  fiction  reading  where  vast  quantities    jj^^^ired 
of  nearly  valueless  matter  are  taken  into  - 
the  mind  only  to  be  quickly  dismissed  and  forgotten.    A 
memory  thus  trained  to  let  go  soon  loses  its  retaining 
powers,  and  things  really  worth  while  slip  away  with  the 
unimportant.    There  are  few  more  serious  handicaps,  no 
matter  what  one's  life  work  may  be,  than  an  untrust- 
worthy memory. 

Third,  superficial  reading,  the  eye  hurrying  from  page 
to  page  and  skipping  whatever  promises  to  be  the  least 
bit    uninteresting,    impairs    the    power    to    Thinking 
think.    The  mind  forms  the  habit  of  twisting    power 
and  dodging  and  delaying  instead  of  meeting    impaired 
problems  squarely  and  clinging  to  them  until  they  are 
mastered.     The  intellect  becomes  flabby;  it  shirks  and 
evades.    It  loses  stamina. 

Fourth,  and  most  pathetic,  certain  varieties  of  reading 
degrade  the  character.     There  are  all  kinds  of  books  as 
there  are  all  kinds  of  people.    The  average 
modern  novel  is  fairly  clean,  but  many  are    .       .    , 
degrading  in  their  influence.    It  is  possible 
so  to  feed  the  passions  on  trashy  fiction  as  to  gain  an 
entirely  wrong  idea  of  what  is  best  worth  while  in  life. 
Reading  then  becomes  the  worst  form  of  intemperance. 

Here  are  a  few  final  suggestions,  growing 
out  of  the  discussion  in  the  preceding  para- 
graphs on  the  benefits  and  dangers  of  reading : 

1.  Keep  good  company.     Choose  your  books  as  you 
choose  your  friends,  and  treat  them  as  courteously. 

2.  Form  the  habit  of  reading  a  book  a  month— one  that 
is  really  worth  while. 


132  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

3.  Vary  your  reading.  Do  not  become  a  slave  to  prose 
fiction;  try  history,  biography,  science.  Whether  at  first 
you  Uke  it  or  not,  read  poetry — a  few  fines  every  day. 

4.  Read  aloud  whenever  you  can.  This  is  beneficial 
for  at  least  three  reasons.  First,  it  tends  to  break  up  the 
habit  of  reading  carelessly.  Second,  the  charm  of  poetry, 
and  the  same  is  true  of  the  best  prose,  lies  partly  in  the 
melody.  This  may  be  lost  in  silent  reading.  Third,  words 
pronounced  cling  in  the  memory;  if  merely  glanced  at, 
they  make  little  impression.  We  should  be  familiar  not 
only  with  the  meanings  of  words  but  with  their  sounds. 

5.  Keep  a  record  of  what  you  read.  A  book  finished, 
jot  down  briefly  in  your  journal  what  it  is  about,  what  you 
have  found  commendable  in  it  and  what  you  have  found 
to  dislike. 

6.  Own  a  few  books,  the  very  best  editions  you  can 
afford  to  buy.    ,They  make  good  companions. 

Volumes  might  be  filled  with  the  wise  things  that  have 

been  said  about  books  and  reading.    Here  are  a  few  well- 

.         .  ^.  known  passages  which  may  serve  to  enforce 

Appreciations  f  ,   , ,      ^       .  ,  , 

or  supplement  the  few  ideas  that  have  been 

presented  in  this  meager  chapter: 

Books  are  the  best  things,  well  used;  abused,  among  the 
worst. — Emerson 

No  book  can  be  so  good  as  to  be  profitable  when  negUgently 
read. — Seneca 

No  good  book,  or  good  thing  of  any  sort,  shows  its  best  face 
at  once. — Carlyle 

Books  are  the  great  legacies  that  a  great  genius  leaves  to  man- 
kind, which  are  delivered  down  from  generation  to  generation  as 
presents  to  the  posterity  of  those  who  are  yet  unborn. — ^Addison 

I  have  even  gained  the  most  profit,  and  the  most  pleasure  also, 
from  the  books  which  have  made  me  think  the  most;  and  when 
the  difficulties  have  once  been  overcome,  these  are  the  books 
which  have  struck  the  deepest  root,  not  only  in  my  memory  and 
understanding,  but  in  my  affections. — J.  C.  and  A.  W.  Hare 


READING 


133 


If  time  is  precious,  no  book  that  will  not  improve  by  repeated 
readings  deserves  to  be  read  at  all.^CARLYLE 

God  be  thanked  for  books.  They  are  the  voices  of  the  distant 
and  the  dead,  and  make  us  heirs  of  the  spiritual  life  of  past  ages. 
Books  are  the  true  levelers.  They  give  to  all,  who  will  faith- 
fully use  them,  the  society,  the  spiritual  presence,  of  the  best  and 
the  greatest  of  our  race.  No  matter  how  poor  I  am,  no  matter 
though  the  prosperous  of  my  own  time  will  not  enter  my  obscure 
dwelling.  If  the  sacred  writers  will  enter  and  take  up  their 
abode  under  my  roof,  if  Milton  will  cross  my  threshhold  to  sing 
to  me  of  Paradise,  and  Shakespeare  to  open  to  me  the  worlds 
of  imagination  and  the  workings  of  the  human  heart,  and  Frank- 
lin to  enrich  me  with  his  practical  wisdom,  I  shall  not  pine  for 
want  of  intellectual  companionship,  and  I  may  become  a  culti- 
vated man  though  excluded  from  what  is  called  the  best  society, 
in  the  place  where  I  Hvc^^Channing 

if  you  read  ten  pages  of  a  good  book,  letter  by  letter, — ■ 

that  is  to  say  with  real  accuracy, — ^you  are  for  evermore  in 
some  measure  an  educated  person.  The  entire  difference  between 
education  and  non-education  (as  regards  the  merely  intellectual 
part  of  it)  consists  in  this  accuracy. — Ruskin 


Reading 


I  Benefits 


Pleasure 

A  store  of  facts  and  ideas 

An    equipment   of   truths   and 

ideals 
Gain  in  abihty  to  think 
Gain  in  ability  to  appreciate 
Gain  in  abihty  to  express 

Loss  of  time  and  energy 
Impairment  of  memory 
Impairment  of  ability  to  think 
Impairment  of  character 

'  Keep  good  company. 
Read  a  book  a  month. 
A  Few  Sug-      Vary  your  reading, 
gestions        Read  aloud. 

Keep  a  record. 
.  Own  a  few  books. 


II  Dangers 


III 


134  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

QUESTIONS 

1  What  is  your  favorite  kind  of  literature?  What  is  the 
most  interesting  book  you  have  ever  read?  What  book 
have  you  been  reading  recently?  Can  you  name  a  book 
from  which  you  have  surely  received  permanent  benefit? 
Can  you  think  of  a  book  from  which  one  might  receive 
injury? 

2  If  you  were  about  to  be  cast  away  on  an  island  from 
which  there  was  no  prospect  of  return  for  ten  years,  what 
live  books  would  you  wish  to  take  with  you?  If  a  bene- 
factor were  to  offer  to  supply  to  each  pupil  in  school  five 
books,  what  would  be  your  choice?  Can  you  name  two 
or  three  good  books  that  would  prove  interesting  to  a  boy 
of  fifteen  interested  in  manual  training? 

3  What  are  your  favorite  magazines  and  newspapers? 
In  reading  periodicals,  what  do  you  omit  and  what  do  you 
select?  Should  newspapers  be  read  thoroughly?  Will  you 
suggest  five  or  six  periodicals  appropriate  for  a  school 
reading  room?  If  the  benefactor  mentioned  above  should 
decide  to  send  two  periodicals  to  each  pupil,  which  two 
would  you  recommend? 

4  If  a  girl  intends  to  be  a  musician,  should  she  stop 
reading  altogether,  read  widely,  or  specialize?  Should 
a  boy  who  intends  to  be  a  civil  engineer  read  poetry? 
Of  what  value  are  histories  to  those  who  intend  to  take 
part  in  public  affairs?  What  kind  of  literature  should 
one  read  who  intends  to  be  a  clerk  or  a  factory  laborer? 
What  rule  can  you  suggest  in  regard  to  how  much  time 
should  be  devoted  to  contemporary  literature  and  how 
much  to  masterpieces  of  earlier  times? 

5  How  many  books  do  you  own?  Do  you  take  books 
from  the  public  library?    Do  you  think  public  libraries 


READING  135 

should  contain,  in  the  department  of  pure  Hterature,  ac- 
knowledged masterpieces  only?  What  percentage  of 
the  fund  for  new  books  should  a  public  library  spend 
for  fiction?  Are  reading  circles  a  good  thing,  or  are  they  a. 
bore?  Would  it  be  better  if  books  were  not  so  cheap  and 
libraries  were  not  free?  Are  free  textbooks  an  unmixed 
blessing? 

6  What  benefits  not  mentioned  in  this  chapter  can  you 
think  of?  What  injuries?  What  suggestions  in  regard 
to  reading  habits?  Bring  to  class  tributes  to  books, 
obtained  from  a  dictionary  of  familiar  quotations  or  from, 
some  other  source. 


CHAPTER  XII 
LITERATURE  DEFINED 

Let  it  be  supposed  that  a  building  is  to  be  erected  in 
which  shall  be  brought  together  all  English  literature — 
not  everything  written  in  English,  but  the  choicer  pro- 
ductions to  which  the  term  literature  is  applied  in  its 
narrower,  higher  sense.  What  should  such  a  collection 
include? 

No  question  could  arise  over  the  plays  of  Shakespeare, 
or  Milton's  poems,  or  the  novels  of  Dickens  and  Thackeray. 
Scores  of  writers  would  be  accepted  without 
rt  tu  ?  hesitation.  On  the  other  hand,  tons  upon 
tons  of  printed  matter — books,  pamphlets, 
newspapers,  and  what  not — all  excellent  in  a  way,  would 
be  promptly  rejected.  Manifestly  a  textbook  in  algebra 
deserves  no  place  in  such  a  collection,  nor  an  almanac,  nor 
a  treatise  on  the  manufacture  of  steel.  Most  works  in 
science  and  history  belong  elsewhere.  Sooner  or  later,  how- 
ever, vexing  questions  would  arise;  for  the  dividing  line 
between  mere  books  and  pure  literature  is  a  vague  one. 
Very  convenient  would  be  a  serviceable  definition  of  lit- 
erature which  might  be  applied  in  doubtful  cases  as  the 
carpenter  applies  his  foot  rule  to  a  stick  of  timber  to  see 
if  it  will  answer  his  purpose. 

Of  the  scores  of  definitions  that  have  been  penned,  none 

is  quite  satisfactory;  the  thing  to  be  defined  is  far  too 

. .       .      varied  in  character  and  too  subtle  in  its 

eeneral°^^  "^    nature  to  be  bounded  by  a  single  sentence. 

To  define  literature  is  like  trying  to  define 

beauty,  or  pleasure,  or  sorrow.    Let  us  examine  a  few  def- 

136 


LITERATURE  DEFINED  137 

initions,  however,  for  each  may  suggest  hnes  of  profitable 
thought. 

Emerson  calls  literature  *'a  record  of  the  best  thought.'^ 
Much  that  enters  the  mind,  these  six  short  words  suggest, 
is  necessarily  commonplace,  petty,  not  worth 
preserving.  The  mission  of  literature  is  to  .  ^... 
sift  and  winnow  and  garner.  Men  die, 
cities  become  ruins,  nations  fade  into  obscurity;  thought — 
the  best  thought — endures,  preserved  in  the  written  or 
printed  page,  for  the  poetry  and  the  prose  of  a  nation 
form  the  truest  and  most  lasting  record  of  the  best  that 
its  men  and  women  have  achieved.  The  durability  of 
literature  and  its  high  character  are,  perhaps,  the  leading 
ideas  suggested  by  Emerson's  definition.  It  reminds  us 
that  a  good  library  is  like  a  chest  containing  priceless 
heirlooms,  fortunately  not  the  hoarded  possession  of  some 
proud  family,  but  a  legacy  to  all  who  appreciate  their 
value. 

So  brief  a  definition  cannot  well  be  complete;  it  suggests 
much  that  is  true,  but  does  not  include  the  entire  truth. 
Let.  us    examine    a   definition   of   slightly 
greater   length,   by   Stopford   Brooke.     In     ,  ^^. . 
the  estimation  of  this  eminent  scholar,  lit- 
erature is  made  up  of  "the  written  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
intellectual  men  and  women,  arranged  in  a  way  that  gives 
pleasure  to  the  reader  J*    Here  are  at  last  two  new  ideas, 
suggested  by  the  words  feelings  and  pleasure.     Thought, 
as  used  by  Emerson  and  Brooke,  suggests 
the  mind  of  man,  which  considers  and  judges 
intellectually.     Feelings  is  a  warmer  word  suggesting  the 
heart,  seat  of  the  emotions — love,  hate,  fear,  ambition, 
reverence,  etc.    Most  of  us  are  far  less  willing  to  share  with 
others  our  heart  emotions  than  we  are  to  share  the  judg- 
ments of  the  intellect.     Our  feelings  are  so  personal,  so 


138  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

private,  that  instinctively  we  veil  them.  Yet  the  great 
writer,  far  from  concealing  his  emotions,  puts  his  very 
heart  into  his  work,  thus  exposing  to  all  readers  that  which 
makes  up  the  most  precious  element  of  his  individuality. 
Hence  it  follows  that  anyone  who  will  but  learn  to  read 
may  become  intimately  acquainted  with  the  intellectual 
men  and  women  of  all  times.  Let  his  station  in  life  be 
what  it  will,  the  door  stands  wide  open  for  him;  he  may 
become  an  aristocrat,  associating  intimately  with  great 
souls  and  sharing  their  finest  emotions. 

Passing  now  to  the  word  pleasure,  we  are  reminded  that 
thought  and  feeling  to  endure  must  be  properly  expressed. 

Literature  worthy  of  the  name  is  a  fine  art, 

not  the  product  of  bunglers.  Our  pleasure 
in  reading  is  due  but  in  part  to  the  thoughts  and  feelings 
revealed;  it  is  in  no  small  degree  due  to  the  artistic  skill 
displayed  in  expressing  these  thoughts  and  feelings.  A 
very  simple  idea,  or  an  emotion  which  all  have  felt,  becomes 
beautiful  when  beautifully  phrased.  This  pleasure  derived 
from  the  skill  with  which  authors  clothe  their  thought 
increases  with  maturing  years,  if  we  are  wise  enough  to 
make  companions  of  great  writers.  In  time  we  grow  im- 
patient of  what  is  termed  cheap  literature,  where  little  or 
no  skill  is  displayed,  and  impatient  of  our  own  ways  of 
crude  expression. 

Here  is  a  third  definition,  by  Henry  Morley.    Literature 
comprises  "all  hooks — and  they  are  hut  few — where  moral 

truth  and  human  passion  are  touched  with  a 
d  fi^  T  ^  certain  largeness,   sanity,   and  attractiveness 

of  form.^'  This  is  less  clear  than  the  others 
and  calls  for  careful  study.  Reading  it  over  and  over  and 
thinking  it  through  and  through  as  one  must  where  much  is 
condensed  into  a  few  words,  we  at  length  discover  two 
important  ideas.    The  first  is  that  it  is  the  mission  of  lit- 


LITERATURE  DEFINED  139 

erature  to  elevate  and  inspire  through  bringing  the  reader 
face  to  face  with  the  great  moral  truths  of  life.  The  mas- 
ters reveal  not  only  their  own  emotions  «.  .  . . 
but  the  emotions — the  passions — of  all  hu- 
manity; they  unveil  not  alone  their  own  hearts  but  the 
heart  of  the  world — yours,  mine,  every  man's.  They  help 
us  to  understand  ourselves  and  to  look  with  truer,  more 
sympathetic  eyes  upon  the  various  complex  emotions 
which  make  up  the  real  history  of  the  world. 

The  second  idea,  a  simpler  one,  emphasizes  the  limited 
field  of  pure  literature.  Much  that  is  written  has  little  to 
do  with  moral  truth  or  with  human  passions. 
It  is  not  concerned  with  joys  and  sorrows. 
Many  books  serve  merely  to  impart  knowledge.  They 
interest  but  a  limited  number  and  for  a  limited  time. 
Moral  truth  and  human  passion,  the  same  thousands  of 
years  ago  as  they  are  today,  are  of  permanent  interest 
to  all  because  they  concern  all.  These  only  are  the  raw 
materials  out  of  which  poems  and  plays  and  romances  are 
made. 

Finally,  here  is  a  long,   detailed,   scientific  definition 
from  the  Standard  Dictionary,  less  attractive  than  the  ones 
already  considered,  yet  not  without  merit. 
No  explanation  follows  it,  that  the  student    (jeg^i^ioT^^ 
may  have  the  pleasure  of  accepting  the  chal- 
lenge offered  by  its  difficulty,  and  may  master  it  step  by 
step,  seeking  for  ideas  which  are  not  emphasized  in  the 
briefer  definitions.    *' Belonging  to  the  sphere  of  high  art  and 
embodying  thought  that  is  power-giving,  or  inspiring  and 
elevating,  rather  than  knowledge-giving  (excluding  thus  all 
purely  scientific  writings);  catholic,  or  of  interest  to  man  as 
man  (excluding  writings  that  are  merely  technical,  or  for  a 
class,  trade,  or  profession,  or  the  like,  only);  esthetic  in  its 
tone  and  style  (excluding  writings  violating  the  principles 


140  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

of  good  taste);  and  shaped  by  the  creative  imagination,  or 
power  of  artistic  construction  {excluding  all  writings  that  are 
shapeless  and  without  organic  unity).'' 

With  these  four  definitions  well  in  mind,  perhaps  some 
will  think  the  library  building,  as  imagination  may  have 

pictured  it  at  the  beginning  of  this  chapter, 
ew  concep-     unnecessarily  large,  but  none  too  stately. 

Better  still,  it  may  be  that  through  following 
the  lines  of  thought  suggested  by  these  definitions,  our 
respect  for  the  great  masters  whose  works  are  far  more 
than  mere  books  has  been  increased,  and  we  shall  be  less 
likely  to  grow  vain  over  our  own  feeble  compositions. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

KINDS  OF  LITERATURE:  POETRY  AND  PROSE 

There  are  four  kinds  of  composition:  narration,  descrip- 
tion, exposition,  and  argument.     Since  literature  is  but 
composition,  it  may  be  said  that  there  are 
four  kinds  of  literature.    But  should  we  wish      ^^^ 
to  arrange  the  books  for  which,  in  the  pre- 
ceding chapter,  our  imagination  provided  a  building,  it 
would,  manifestly,  be  impossible  to  group  them  under 
these  heads,  since  the  four  forms  of  discourse  are  seldom 
found  separate  but  rather  in  combination,  all  of  them 
sometimes  appearing  in  a  single  paragraph.    Of  the  many 
possible  systems,  the  simplest  classification  would  be  one 
dividing  the  books  into  two  broad  groups,  poetry  and  prose ; 
yet  even  this  simple  scheme  might  present  some  difficulties. 
What  is  poetry?    How  does  it  differ  from  prose? 

Perhaps  rhyme  is  the  first  word  to  arise  in  the  mind  of 
one  attempting  to  answer  these  questions.  Prose  does  not 
rhyme;  most  poetry  does,  though  much  that 
Shakespeare  and  Milton  and  the  lesser  poets 
have  written  is  rhymeless.  On  the  other  hand  mere  rhyme 
cannot  make  poetry,  for  there  are  the  senseless  jingles 
which  every  child  makes — ^jingles  and  nothing  more. 

Next  to  suggest  itself  is,  it  may  be,  rhythm.    Each  line 
beats  out  a  little  tune  produced  by  the  recurrence  of 
stressed  syllables  separated  by  syllables  un- 
stressed.     Good  prose,   it  is  true,  contains 
something  of  rhythmical  swing,  but  the  swing  is  not  met- 
rical; that  is,  it  does  not  conform  to  established  rules. 

141 


142  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

That  there  are  such  rules,  hard  and  fast,  we  see  as  we  turn 
the  leaves  of  such  a  collection  as  the  Oxford  Book  of  English 
Verse.  The  poet  neatly  fits  his  words  to  a  mould,  as  it 
were.  His  stanzas  are  made  to  pattern,  each  line  contain- 
ing a  definite  number  of  stressed  syllables  and  all  the 
rhymes  coming  in  their  proper  places  according  to  a  pre- 
conceived plan. 

In  the  third  place  we  note,  if  the  ear  be  sensitive,  a 
sound-harmony.    The  words  are  so  chosen  and  arranged 

that  succeeding  sounds  harmonize,  hke 
,         "  colors  skilfully  blended.     This  too  is  found 

in  prose;  at  least  the  skilled  writer  of  prose 
is  careful  to  avoid  disagreeable  sound  combinations.  But 
poetry  is  preeminently  harmonious.  Carlyle  calls  it 
"musical  thought."  It  is  song.  In  earlier  times  it  was 
intended  to  be  sung,  the  voice,  often  accom'panied  by 
some  instrument,  interpreting  the  feeling  and  bringing  out 
the  melody.  Since  the  invention  of  printing  and  the  rapid 
growth  of  the  reading  habit,  poetry  enters  the  mind  not 
through  the  ear  alone  but  through  the  eye.  Nevertheless 
it  sings  its  way  in;  for  as  the  eye  runs  from  word  to  word  on 
the  printed  page,  imagination,  or  memory,  helps  us  to 
catch  the  intended  harmonies.  We  cannot  think  the  words 
without,  in  imagination,  hearing  them. 

Since  poetry  is  melody,  it  follows  that  the  vocabulary 
of  poetry  cannot  be  quite  the  vocabulary  of  prose.    There 

are  words  too  harsh  for  the  poet,  and  words 

of  so  many  syllables  that  they  defy  all  met- 
rical arrangement.  Melody  aside,  how  many  words  there 
are  which  are  too  coarse  and  commonplace  in  what  they 
suggest  to  be  of  service.  They  are  not  beautiful.  Yet  we 
shall  try  in  vain  to  say  which  words  are  poetical  and  which 
are  not;  we  can  but  wonder  at  the  great  masters'  skill  in 
selecting  that  which  in  sound  and  suggestion  is  appro- 


KINDS  OF  LITERATURE  143 

priate  for  their  purposes.  We  know  merely  that  some 
words,  as  the  poets  employ  them,  are  magical — pleasing 
the  ear,  exciting  the  imagination,  and  stirring  the  emotions. 

But  language,  in  verse  or  prose,  is  merely  a  vehicle. 
Great  as  may  be  the  pleasure  derived  from  beautiful, 
melodious  words,  and  from  the  nicety  with    ,^ 
which  the  poet  shapes  his  message  to  fit    ^f  p^^^y 
approved  metrical  patterns,  the  message  thus 
beautifully  expressed  is,   after  all,   the   essential  thing. 
Instinctively  we  look  upon  the  poet  not  merely  as  one  who 
has  discovered  the  hidden  charm  of  language,  but  as  one 
preeminently  a  lover  of  the  beautiful  and  possessing  the 
power  to  see  it  where  common  eyes  perceive  it  not.    He  is 
emotionally  sensitive,  looking  deep  into  the  heart  of  man 
with  a  sympathy  and  an  understanding  which  enables  him 
to  discover  the  great  truths  of  life. 

But  volumes  have  been  written  in  a  vain  attempt  to 

define  the  essentials  of  poetry.    The  preceding  paragraphs 

are  designed  merely  to  lead  up  to  a  def-    ^  ^  .  . 
'   '.'  !-•  u      XI,        I,  x-^     X  Definition 

mition    which,    though    unsatistactory,    as    ^^  poetry 

most  definitions  must  be,  is  simple  and  sug- 
gestive: Poetry  is  beautiful  thought,  feeling,  or  action, 
beautifully  expressed  in  melodious,  usually  metrical,  lan- 
guage. Of  all  the  rooms  in  the  stately  building  imagined 
in  the  preceding  chapter,  surely  the  best  should  be  reserved 
for  poetry,  "the  most  delightful  and  perfect  form  of  utter- 
ance that  human  words  can  reach.'' 


CHAPTER  XIV 

VARIETIES  OF  PROSE 

''The  most  influential  books,  and  the  truest  in  their  in- 
fluence/' Stevenson  once  declared,  "are  works  of  fiction.'' 
He  might  have  added  that  story-telling  is 
the  oldest  of  all  forms  of  literature,  and  that 
it  out-bulks  all  others.  Indeed  so  abundant  is  the  supply 
of  late  years  that,  to  keep  up  with  it,  one  would  have  to 
read  several  volumes  every  day. 

By  fiction,  as  the  term  is  commonly  employed,  is  meant 
all  forms  of  prose  story-telling  (save  drama)  in  which  there 

is  an  element  of  make-believe,  the  incidents 
Classification  ,     ,  ,        ,    .       .  ,  .         . 

and  characters  bemg  m  some  degree  imagi- 
nary. The  simplest  classification  would  mention  but  two 
varieties,  the  short  story  and  what  is  conveniently  termed 
the  novel.  Such  a  simple  classification  is  all,  perhaps,  that 
the  general  reader  requires;  yet  it  does  not  meet  with  the 
approval  of  scholars,  who  insist  that  among  the  so-called 
novels  are  many  which  should  be  termed  romances.  Since 
romance  is  a  term  frequently  used  in  talking  about  books, 
it  is  well  to  understand  its  meaning. 

Properly  speaking,  the  novel  is  a  prose  story  of  some 

length  in  which  the  incidents,  though  they  may  never  have 

happened,  are  at  least  within  the  range  of 

probability — might   have   happened.      The 

characters,  though  imagined,  are  not  unlike 

the  real  people  whom  we  meet  every  day,  not  necessarily 

more  remarkable  or  interesting.     In  short,  the  novelist 

strives  to  mirror  or  picture,  realistically,  life  as  it  is  in  the 


VARIETIES   OF  PROSE  145 

world  of  his  day.  The  romance,  on  the  other  hand,  may 
contain  an  element  of  improbability  if  not  of  actual  im- 
possibility, though  the  reader  may  be  so  charmed  that 
he  fails  to  observe  the  unreality.  The  world  as  the  ro- 
mancer pictures  it  is  ideal  rather  than  real;  it  is  as  we 
should  like  to  have  it,  perhaps,  not  as  experience  teaches 
us  that  it  actually  is.  In  most  romances  marvels  abound. 
Adventure,  unusual  occurrences,  and  love-making  are 
given  unnatural  prominence.  The  virtues  of  heroes  and 
the  vices  of  villains  are  extraordinary.  David  Copperfield 
is  a  novel,  Ivanhoe  a  romance;  for  the  former  strives  to 
picture  ordinary  life  as  it  was  at  the  time  when  Dickens 
wrote,  while  the  latter  not  only  leads  the  reader  to  times 
remote  and  therefore  misty,  but  presents  marvellous  in- 
cidents and  idealized  personages. 

Although  this  distinction  between  the  idealistic  and 
romantic  on  the  one  hand  and  the  realistic  on  the  other 
hand  is  readily  seen  in  extreme  types,  the 
dividing  line  is  after  all  a  shadowy  one,  hard     u  a 
to  establish.    Many  novels  contain  romantic 
elements,  and  romancers  employ  realism,  greatly  to  the 
confusion  of  scholars  bent  upon  establishing  hard  and  fast 
systems  of  classification.    It  is  probable  that  readers  will 
continue  to  speak  of  all  longer  fictitious  narratives  as 
novels,  and  that  they  will  seldom  be  misunderstood. 

Closely  related  to  fiction  is  the  second  great  story-telling 
form  of  literature,  the  drama.  Since  few  plays  are  printed, 
we  are  apt  to  underestimate  the  quantity  of 
dramatic  literature  produced  since  Shake- 
speare's day,  and  its  importance  as  well.  Could  its  in- 
fluence for  good  or  bad  be  measured,  we  might  find  that 
drama  approaches  in  power  the  novel. 

The  simplest  classification  of  plays  is  the  familiar  one 
which  groups  them  under  the  two  heads  comedy  and  trag- 


146  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

edy.     By  comedy  is  meant  a  play  that  is  light,  amusing, 

and  has  a  happy  ending.     In  its  purest  form  it  mirrors 

life  truly,  as  does  the  novel.    Tragedy  is 

^j  less  easily  defined.    The  dictionary  defini- 

tragedy 

tion  runs  somewhat  as  follows:  a  play  de- 
picting a  serious  action  in  which  ordinarily  the  leading 
character  is  by  some  passion  or  limitation  brought  to  a 
catastrophe.  Shakespeare's  Macbeth  furnishes  a  familiar 
example.  The  story  of  Macbeth's  rise  and  fall  provides 
action  that  is  serious.  His  one  great  passion,  ambition, 
forces  him  inevitably  on  through  crime  after  crime  to  a 
fatal  catastrophe. 

These  two  terms  are  so  broad  that  still  others  are  needed 
in  talking  about  plays.    We  speak  of  light  comedy,  meaning 

a  drama  in  which  the  humor  is  refined  and 
in  so  ^^^  language  natural;  of  low  comedy  when 

the  humor  is  broad  and  farcical.  A  farce 
is  a  play  the  sole  purpose  of  which  is  merriment.  The 
characters  are  exaggerated,  and  the  situations  as  funny 
as  can  be  conceived,  the  main  idea  being  to  supply  occasion 
for  laughter.  After  witnessing  a  farce,  one  is  more  apt 
to  remember  comic  situations  than  characters.  Musical 
comedy  is,  as  the  name  suggests,  comedy  in  which  music 
is  an  important  feature.  A  play  in  which  comedy  and 
tragedy  are  combined,  the  ending  normally  a  happy  one, 
is  sometimes  termed  tragi-comedy.  Many  of  our  modern 
plays  are  melodramas.  Melodrama  bears  somewhat  the 
same  relationship  to  tragedy  that  the  romance  does  to 
the  novel.  At  its  worst,  it  is  a  cheap,  sensational  play, 
full  of  hair-breadth  escapes  and  harrowing  scenes  de- 
signed to  thrill  audiences  of  low  intelligence.  As  is  the 
case  with  the  farce,  one  is  apt  to  remember  situations 
rather  than  characters.  Of  late  there  seems  to  be  a 
growing  tendency  to  class  as  melodrama  many  of  the 


VARIETIES  OF  PROSE  147 

better  serious  plays  which  fail  to  reach  the  high  level  of 
pure  tragedy.  Still  other  terms  might  be  mentioned,  for 
there  are  at  least  a  score  which  are  employed,  or  have  at 
some  time  been  employed,  in  classifying  plays;  but  they 
are  not  of  present  importance. 

A  third  division  of  prose  literature,  very  large  indeed 
and  with  boundaries  not  so  clearly  defined  as  those  of 
fiction  and  drama,  is  made  up  of  essays. 
What  is  an  essay?  First,  it  is,  normally,  ,  ^  essay 
a  variety  of  prose  literature.  Second,  it  is  a 
short  composition,  designed  to  be  read  in  half  an  hour,  an 
hour,  or  at  most  an  evening.  We  speak  of  a  volume  of 
essays,  not  of  a  volume  containing  an  essay.  Third,  the 
essay  is  comparatively  simple,  and  direct;  it  is  somewhat 
of  the  nature  of  a  lecture  or  an  informal  talk,  the  writer 
meeting  his  readers  informally,  not  addressing  them 
through  the  medium  of  a  drama  or  a  novel.  Fiction  and 
drama  are,  after  all,  artificial  forms,  governed  by  rules  of 
construction;  the  essayist,  addressing  his  readers  directly, 
is  hampered  by  no  rules  save  those  of  common  sense  which 
bid  one  first  have  something  worth  saying  and  then  say  it 
clearly  and  in  an  agreeable  manner.  Finally,  the  word 
essay  contains  the  idea  of  trial  or  incompleteness  as  op- 
posed to  that  which  is  final  and  exhaustive.  For  example, 
an  essay  on  trees  would  not  contain  all  that  could  be  said 
on  the  subject;  it  might  contain  merely  a  little  of  what 
the  essayist  knew  about  trees,  and  this  little  put  forth 
experimentally,  afterwards  perhaps  to  be  given  deeper 
thought  and  possibly  expanded  into  a  book  of  many  pages. 
Most  magazine  articles,  other  than  fiction,  are  essays. 
Editorials  are  short  essays. 

To  speak  in  detail  of  all  the  kinds  of  essays  would  take 
many  pages.  One  familiar  type  is  found  in  Irving's  Sketch 
Book,  in  which  the  author  tells  with  delightful  informality 


148  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

of  his  travels  abroad,  and  pictures  different  phases  of  Eng- 
lish life,  weaving  into  his  narrative  not  a  little  of  reflec- 
tion and   sentiment.     Another   variety   is 
essavs  ^^^^  ^^  ^^®  Spectator  Papers  of  Addison  and 

Steele.  Many  of  these  papers  are  satirical; 
that  is,  they  point  out  the  petty  follies  of  the  day  and 
through  showing  the  evils  to  which  these  follies  may  lead, 
gently  reprove  those  at  fault  and  recommend  wholesome 
reforms.  Bacon,  the  philosopher,  wrote  very  brief  essays, 
closely  compacted,  each  sentence  containing  a  thought 
strikingly  expressed,  as  if  he  had  jotted  down  ideas  from 
time  to  time  and  at  last  assembled  them.  He  writes  on 
such  topics  as  truth,  riches,  death.  Most  delightful  of  all 
essayists  is  Charles  Lamb,  who  wrote  informally  on  whist, 
roast  pig,  old  china,  old  plays,  and  his  sister  Mary.  Read- 
ing one  of  his  Essays  of  Elia  is  like  listening  to  delightful 
after-dinner  talk.  Longer,  more  formal,  and  logically  con- 
structed are  the  essays  of  Macaulay  on  literary  and  his- 
torical subjects.  His  essay  on  Milton  contains  over  one 
hundred  pages  of  average  size,  quite  a  book  in  itself; 
whereas  a  typical  essay  by  Lamb  is  about  ten  pages 
long,  and  a  number  of  Bacon's  essays  do  not  exceed  two 
or  three  pages  each. 

Fiction,  drama,  and  essay  are  the  three  higher  forms  of 
prose,  but  there  are  many  provinces  which  border  the 

realms  of  pure  literature.  First,  perhaps, 
Minor  forms  7  •  t  .  7  •  t  j  j.u 

,  come  biography,  autobiography,  and  the  re- 

lated fields  of  letters  and  diaries.  Second 
comes  history,  associated  with  which  are  travel  and  explora- 
tion.  Third  may  be  mentioned  works  of  science  and  philos- 
ophy, a  few  of  which  are  truly  masterpieces.  Finally,  ora- 
tory should  be  included;  for  though  sermons  and  speeches 
are  designed  but  for  an  occasion,  not  for  all  time,  and  when 
printed  they  lose  something  of  their  force  because  com- 


VARIETIES  OF  PROSE 


149 


posed  to  be  listened  to,  not  to  be  read,  our  literature  is 
so  rich  in  powerful  oratory  that  it  would  be  wrong  to 
neglect  it.  Yet  works  belonging  to  any  one  of  these 
outlying  provinces  we  should  need  to  examine  closely 
before  giving  them  a  place  in  our  library  of  pure  litera^ 
ture. 

(The  short  story 
The  novel  * 

The  romance 


Varieties 

OF 

Prose 


Drama 


Essay 


Minor 
Forms 


'  Comedy 
Farce 

Tragi-comedy 
Melodrama 
Tragedy 


Biography,  Autobiography,  Diaries, 

Letters 
History,  Travel,  Exploration 
Science,  Philosophy 
.  Oratory 


CHAPTER  XV 
VARIETIES  OF  POETRY 

Most  poems  fall  readily  into  one  of  four  classes:  Nar- 
rative (including  dramatic  and  non-dramatic  forms), 
Lyrical,  Descriptive,  and  Didactic  or  Reflective. 

In  poetic  drama,  as  in  prose,  are  found  comedy  and  trag- 
edy, and  such  allied  forms  as  farce,  tragi-comedy ,  and  mel- 

,     .    .  odrama.    These  call  for  no  further  explana- 

Vfl.rictics 

of  drama  tion;  but  a  word  is  necessary,  perhaps,  in 

regard  to  masks  (sometimes  spelled  masques) 

and  closet  drama.    The  mask,  Italian  in  origin,  made  its 

appearance  in  England  during  the  reign  of 

Elizabeth  and  was  for  a  time  exceedingly 

popular  with  the  cultured  rich.    Songs,  intricate  dances, 

and  elaborate  scenic  effects  were  essential  features,  in 

many  cases  the  dramatic  element  being  of  comparatively 

slight  importance.    The  masks  were  not  given  at  public 

playhouses,  but  at  court  and  in  castle  halls,  no  expense 

being  spared  to  make  the  spectacle  gorgeous.    The  parts 

were  taken  by  amateurs  from  among  the  nobility,  who 

impersonated  mythical  or  allegorical  characters,  which 

were  as  essential  to  mask  as  were  the  musical  numbers, 

the  dancing,  and  the  scenic  display.    The  most  prolific 

of  mask-producers  was  Ben  Jonson;  but  Milton's  Comus, 

presented  at  Ludlow  castle  before  the  Earl  of  Bridgewater, 

then  President  of  Wales,  is  the  best  of  all  the  dramas  cast 

^,         ,  in  this  highlv  artificial  form.    Closet  drama 

Closet  drama     .  i.    ,    ,  i  j-     • 

IS  a  name  applied  to  poems  dramatic  in 

form,  but  unfit  for  successful  stage  presentation.    To  this 

class  belong  dramas  in  verse  which  were  intended  to  be 

150 


VARIETIES  OF  POETRY  151 

read,  not  witnessed,  as  Shelley's  Prometheus  Unbound  and 
Byron's  Manfred.  But  the  term  is  also  applied  to  dramas 
which,  though  written  for  stage  presentation,  have  proved 
less  effective  when  acted  than  when  read  as  we  read  other 
forms  of  story-telling  verse.  Hence  we  may  include  in 
this  small  class  the  dramas  of  Tennyson,  Browning,  and 
even  some  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare. 

Non-dramatic  narrative  poetry  is  as  varied  in  kind  as 
prose  j&ction,  but  we  shall  consider  merely  the  tale,  the 
ballad,  the  romance,  and  the  epic.  The  tale 
corresponds  in  a  general  way  to  the  short 
story,  though  commonly  much  simpler  and  briefer.  Long- 
fellow's Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn  and  Chaucer's  Canterbury 
Tales  are  familiar  examples.  An  interesting  variety  is  the 
monologue,  closely  related  to  the  drama.  The  words  all 
come  from  the  lips  of  one  person,  yet  the  narrative  is  so 
given  that  the  reader  readily  imagines  the  presence  and 
replies  of  other  characters  to  whom  the  words  are  spoken. 
Something  of  the  effect  of  monologue  may  be  gained  by 
listening  to  one  who  is  using  the  telephone,  and  trying 
to  imagine  what  the  person  at  the  other  end  of  the  wire 
is  saying.  Many  of  what  Browning  has  called  his  dramatic 
lyrics  are  monologue  tales. 

Some  of  the  most  fascinating  tales  in  all  English  lit- 
erature are  found  in  the  form  of  ballads,  which,  as  the  name 
suggests,  were  originally  short  tales  intended  h  w  d 

to  be  sung.  In  the  eighteenth  century  when 
there  was  a  revival  of  interest  in  earlier  times,  the  ballads 
which  had  been  composed  and  sung  throughout  England 
during  the  Middle  Ages  were  collected  and  excited  great 
interest  because  of  their  simplicity  and  wonderful  dramatic 
power.  They  have  received  loving  study  ever  since.  Not 
a  few  of  our  modern  poets  have  imitated  these  ancient 
models;  but  Coleridge's  Rime  cf  the  Ancient  Mariner,  best 


152  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

of  these  modern  attempts,  though  a  great  poem,  is  inferior 

as  a  ballad  to  such  originals  as  Sir  Patrick  Spens,  or  A 

Geste  of  Rohyn  Hode. 

The  term  romance,  or  metrical  romance,  also  carries  the 

scholar  back  to  the  Middle  Ages,  to  a  very  large  group  of 

_,^  extremely  long  poems  recounting  the  deeds 

The  romance  u  u   ir        A^-     i  i  t^       r^i      i 

01  such  half-mythical  heroes  as  Kmg  Charle- 
magne and  King  Arthur,  poems  many  of  which  were 
brought  to  England  by  Norman  minstrels  and  sung  by 
them  in  castle  halls.  But  to  the  average  reader  the  term 
suggests  long  poems  of  more  modern  times,  notably  those 
of  Scott  and  Byron.  The  characteristics  of  this  modern 
type,  as  found  in  such  admirable  examples  as  Marmion 
and  Lady  of  the  Lake,  are  similar  to  those  mentioned  in 
connection  with  prose  romance:  abundance  of  adventure 
and  love  and  sentiment,  the  incidents  taking  place  in 
regions  of  romantic  beauty. 

The  term  epic  is  used  in  two  senses.    First,  it  is  employed 

as  a  general  name  to  cover  all  forms  of  narrative  poetry 

.  except  drama.   But  it  is  used  more  commonly 

to  name  that  kind  of  narrative  poetry  of 
which  Homer's  Iliad  is  the  noblest  example.  Of  the  many 
definitions,  the  following  is  among  the  simplest:  ''A  poem 
celebrating  in  stately  verse  the  real  or  mythical  achievements 
of  great  personages,  heroes,  or  demigods.^'  It  is  always  long 
and  dignified.  In  English  literature  we  find  but  one  poem 
truly  deserving  the  name  epic,  Milton's  Paradise  Lost. 

In  direct  contrast  to  the  story-telling  forms  of  poetry 
thus  far  considered  is  the  lyriG,  the  nature  of  which  it  is 
_,    .    .  quite  necessary  that  the  student  understand 

clearly.  We  may  read  all  of  Shakespeare's 
plays  without  becoming  a  whit  the  wiser  concerning  the 
dramatist's  personal  joys  and  sorrows.  Scott's  Lady  of 
the  Lake  acquaints  the  reader  with  Ellen  Douglas,  Rod- 


VARIETIES   OF  POETRY  153 

erick  Dhu,  James  FitzJames,  and  other  personages  real 
or  imaginary,  but  not,  save  through  inference,  with  Sir 
Walter.  The  story-teller,  whether  dramatist  or  romancer, 
stands  apart  from,  or  back  of,  his  narrative,  as  may  be 
represented  by  these  three  circles: 


*'Do  not  think  of  me,"  he  seems  to  request;  ** watch  the 
characters  in  the  little  fiction  world  that  I  have  imagined, 
and  listen  to  what  they  have  to  say."  The  lyric  poet,  on 
the  other  hand,  aims  to  reveal  the  very  depths  of  his 
heart,  sharing  without  restraint  his  innermost  emotions 
— an  attitude  which  may  be  represented  thus: 


The  purest  form  of  lyric  is  song;  indeed  the  word  is 
derived  from  lyre,  the  name  of  an  instrument  used  for 
musical  accompaniment.  Normally,  song  is  an  outburst 
of  feeling  of  joy  or  grief,  of  patriotism,  or  reverence,  or 


154  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

mere  conviviality.  But  the  term  lyric  is  applied  to  any 
short  poem  which  ''turns  on  some  single  thought,  feeling, 
or  situation."  For  example,  the  poet  hears 
a  nightingale  sing.  The  song  fills  him  with 
emotion  which  he  records  in  a  lyric.  Or  he  opens  by  chance 
Chapman's  translation  of  Homer's  epic  and  reads  for  the 
first  time  the  grand  story  of  the  Iliad.  Later  he  records 
in  a  few  lines  his  emotions  upon  discovering  this  new-old 
world  of  beauty.  Milton,  brooding  over  his  blindness, 
yielding  to  a  mood  of  despair  at  his  helplessness,  is  suddenly 
struck  with  a  great  truth  which  brings  him  comfort,  and 
he  writes  a  little  lyric  of  fourteen  lines  setting  forth  this 
truth,  that  all  who  are  afflicted  in  like  manner  may  share 
the  consolation  that  has  come  to  him. 

One  of  the  best  collections  of  English  lyrics  is  Palgrave's 
Golden  Treasury  of  Songs  and  Lyrics,  a  copy  of  which  every- 
one  should  own.    In  this  wonderful  treasury 
are  found  many  varieties.     There  is  the 
ballad,  which  though  properly  classed  with  narrative  po- 
etry, is  sometimes  so  touched  with  the  tender  emotion  of 
the  narrator  that  it  becomes  truly  lyrical. 
The  elegy,  commonly  defined  as  a  "medita- 
tive poem  of  sorrowful  theme,  usually  lamenting  the  dead," 
is  well  represented  by  Milton's  Lycidas  and  Gray's  Elegy 
Written  in  a  Country  Churchyard.    The  ode, 
also  meditative,  differs  from  other  forms  in 
that  its  structure  is  complicated  or  irregular,  and  the  feel- 
ing expressed  more  exalted.    Wordsworth's  Ode  to  Duty 
serves  as  an  example.     Many  of  the  best 
lyrics  are  written  in  sonnet  form — fourteen 
iambic  pentameter  lines  with  a  definite  rhyming  scheme. 
This  was  a  favorite  form  with   Spenser,   Shakespeare, 
Milton,  and  Wordsworth. 

The  varieties  of  poetry  considered  thus  far  are  the  prin- 


VARIETIES   OF  POETRY  155 

cipal  ones.  Descriptive  and  didactic  or  reflective  verse 
are  considered  minor  varieties,  partly,  no  doubt,  because 
they  are  most  commonly  found  in  connec-  Descriptive 
tion  with  other  forms.  And  yet  English  lit-  and  didactic 
erature  is  exceptionally  rich  in  poems  which  Poetry 
paint  the  beauties  of  nature  in  all  her  moods,  and  picture 
in  ideal  colors  the  simple  joys  and  the  virtues  of  rural  life — 
poetry  quiet  and  reflective  in  character.  Fine  bits  of  nature 
description  are  found  in  Thomson's  Seasons  and  Cowper's 
Task,  eighteenth  century  poems  now  little  read.  More 
familiar  to  modern  readers  is  Burns's  The  Cotter's  Saturday 
Night,  which  pictures  the  simple  life  of  the  Scottish  peas- 
antry, and  Whittier's  Snow-Bound.  Byron  and  Scott  paint 
scenes  of  romantic  beauty.  Our  greatest  nature  poet, 
however,  is  Wordsworth,  to  whom  nature  in  her  quieter 
moods  made  a  strong  appeal;  but  it  is  not  so  much  the 
pictures  in  his  poems  as  it  is  the  thoughts  or  reflections 
prompted  by  his  love  for  nature  that  have  made  him  great. 
Were  we  to  make  a  collection  of  the  very  best  descriptions 
to  be  found  in  all  English  literature,  we  should  find  it 
necessary  to  take  lines  from  nearly  every  poet  of  prom- 
inence, beginning  with  that  unknown  singer  who  composed 
Beowulf  far  back  in  Anglo-Saxon  days,  and  ending  with 
Tennyson  and  Browning. 

Two  terms  related  to  description  are  pastoral  and  idyl. 
Pastoral  (from  the  Latin  pastor,  meaning  shepherd)  is  a 
name  applied  to  any  poem  picturing  the  life 
of  shepherds,  or  indeed  any  phase  of  rural        dth^^-d^^ 
life.    The  finest  of  all  pastorals  are  Milton's 
U Allegro  and  II  Penseroso.    An  idyl  (also  spelled  idyll) 
is  defined  in  Webster's  dictionary  as  "a  little  picture  in 
verse,  or  kind  of  short  descriptive  poem,  as  one  dealing 
with  pastoral  or  rural  life."    But  it  is  also  appHed  to  longer 
poems,  narrative  as  well  as  descriptive,  in  which  the  picture 


156 


THE  STUDY   OF  LITERATURE 


Didactic 
poetry 


element   is   prominent,   as   in   Tennyson's   Idylls  of  the 
King. 

Didactic  poetry,  as  its  name  implies,  has  for  its  main 
purpose  instruction.  We  feel  at  once,  when  the  poet  turns 
teacher  or  preacher,  that  he  encroaches  upon 
the  province  of  the  prose  writer;  yet  we  do 
not  mind  the  short  didactic  passages  found 
nearly  everywhere  in  English  poetry — a  line  or  two  only, 
pointing  a  moral  or  giving  terse  expression  to  some  notable 
thought.  There  have  even  been  a  few  poets,  notably  Dry  den 
and  Pope,  who  have  succeeded  through  wit  and  cleverness 
in  making  attractive  purely  didactic  poems  of  some  length. 
Pope's  Essmj  on  Criticism,  a  sort  of  rhymed  treatise  on 
rhetoric,  is  a  good  example.  Sometimes  didactic  poetry 
takes  the  form  of  satire,  the  purpose  of  which  is  to  reform 
through  ridicule.  Yet  brilliant  as  are  a  number  of  the  long, 
satirical  poems  of  the  seventeenth  and  eighteenth  centuries, 
we  can  but  say  of  them  that  though  they  are  excellent  of 
their  kind,  it  is  a  kind  which  lies  remote  from  the  center  of 
true  poetry. 

'  Comedy 

Tragedy 

Tragi-comedy 

Mask 

Closet  Drama 

Tale 

Monologue  or  Dramatic  Lyric 

Ballad 

Metrical  Romance 
.  Epic 

Song 

Ballad 

Sonnet 

Elegy 

Ode 

(Including  pastorals  and  idyls) 

(Including  reflective  and  exposi- 
tory verse,  and  satire) 


Varieties 

OF 

Poetry 


Dramatic 


Non-dramatic 

or 

Epic 


Lyric 

Descriptive 
Didactic 


CHAPTER  XVI 
THE  STUDY  OF  PROSE  FICTION 

For  purposes  of  study,  the  novel,  or  indeed  any  piece  of 
prose  fiction,  may  be  thought  of  as  made  up  of  certain 
necessary  elements.  First,  there  must  be  a 
plot;  something  must  happen,  otherwise  no  ,  . 
story.  Second,  there  must  be  one  or  more 
characters.  Third,  there  must  be  what  is  called  the  setting; 
that  is  to  say,  what  happens  must  happen  somewhere, 
sometime,  somehow.  Fourth,  no  matter  how  simple  the 
tale,  there  is  pretty  sure  to  be  a  discoverable  central 
thought,  or  ideal,  or  purpose,  which  serves  in  a  way  to 
unify  the  whole.  Fifth,  the  story  must  be  told  by  some- 
body, in  language  of  his  own  choosing,  in  a  way  peculiarly 
his  own.  That  is,  there  must  be  an  author  whose  skill  as  a 
craftsman  and  whose  personality  are  revealed  in  the  narra- 
tive. Plot,  characters,  setting,  central  truth,  the  author's 
skill  and  personality:  these  are  the  five  elements  to  be 
considered  in  the  study  of  any  piece  of  fiction. 

By  plot  is  meant,  loosely  speaking,  the  skeleton  of  the 
complete  narrative,  or  the  important  incidents  without 
which  there  would  be  no  story.  Usually  it 
can  be  stated  in  a  few  sentences.  There  are 
not  many  absolutely  different  plots — perhaps  fifteen  or 
twenty  in  all  literature;  yet  there  are  so  many  thousands 
of  ways  of  varying  these  fifteen  or  twenty  that  no  two 
stories  are  alike.  The  essential  characteristics  of  story- 
plots  can  be  made  clear  through  a  number  of  simple  illus- 
trations. 

157 


158  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

First,  one  is  reminded  of  a  chain.    Link  follows  link, 
each  of  no  value  save  as  all  combine  to  make  up  a  whole, 

designed  to  serve  some  preconceived  purpose, 
similitudes        ^  ^^^^  ^^  sometimes  defined  simply  as  a  chain 

of  incidents.  Second,  the  plot  may  be  likened 
to  a  series  of  blocks  so  placed  in  line,  as  we  have  often  seen 
children  arrange  them,  that  when  the  first  is  pushed  over, 
down  go  the  second,  the  third,  and  all  the  rest.  Thousands 
of  stories  are  but  variations  of  the  old  adage :  For  lack  of  a 
nail  the  shoe  was  lost;  for  lack  of  a  shoe  the  steed  was  lost; 
for  lack  of  a  steed  the  rider  was  lost;  for  lack  of  a  rider  the 
kingdom  was  lost.  Story-telling  of  this  sort  is  but  play- 
ing the  game  of  consequences.  Third,  we  may  liken 
many  a  plot  to  a  number  of  threads  of  different  color 
which  cross  and  recross  in  ever  increasing  perplexity  till 
finally  they  become  so  entangled  that  the  eye  which  en- 
deavors to  follow  some  one  bright  thread  becomes  more 
and  more  bewildered,  till  at  length  all  is  in  a  twinkling 
cunningly  and  quickly  disentangled. 

Fourth,  there  is  the  familiar  comparison  of  a  stream, 
inevitably  flowing  downward,  though  not  with  uniform 

speed.  At  times,  its  current  flows  swiftly; 
s'm'litud  s        ^^  times,  perhaps  in  some  quiet  woodland, 

it  loiters  as  if  attracted  by  beautiful  sur- 
roundings and  forgetful  of  the  great  sea  towards  which  it 
is  journeying.  At  times  it  meanders  through  green  mead- 
ows, or  industriously  turns  the  wheel  of  some  useful 
mill ;  but  the  banks  grow  wider  and  wider,  the  waters  ever 
deeper,  till  at  last  the  broad  river  is  reached.  Finally  we 
may  illustrate  the  nature  of  a  typical  plot  by  means  of  the 
following  diagram.  The  reader  is  like  a  traveler  who 
stands  at  the  foot  of  the  mountain  A  B,  mildly  interested 
to  know  what  lies  beyond  it.  As  he  climbs  the  first  gentle 
slope,  curiosity  gradually  increases  (indicated  by  the  small 


THE  STUDY  OF  PROSE  FICTION         159 

question  marks)  till  he  reaches  a  lowly  summit  the  onward 
view  from  which  brings  a  degree' of  pleasurable  surprise 


(indicated  by  the  small  exclamation  point)  and  gratifies 
his  curiosity  in  some  measure,  though  not  entirely;  for 
straightway  new  questions  in  regard  to  what  lies  beyond 
are  awakened  and  he  climbs  with  growing  interest  to  a 
higher  point  and  still  a  higher,  each  new  vantage  ground 
revealing  a  little,  but  not  enough.  At  last,  his  interest 
now  at  an  intense  pitch,  he  gains  the  topmost  pinnacle 
whence  all  lies  revealed. 

The  characteristics  suggested  by  the  five  foregoing  illus- 
trations, and  still  others  to  be  mentioned,  are  reflected  in 
the  terminology  employed  in  talking  about 
plots.  First  in  this  little  vocabulary  come  tenninoloev 
climax  and  certain  related  terms.  Climax 
is  defined  in  many  ways.  It  is  another  name  for  turning- 
point,  say  some,  thus  calling  attention  to  the  fact  that 
every  story  pictures  a  struggle — a  good  man  contending 
with  a  bad  man;  inherited  weakness,  moral  or  physical, 
contending  with  the  desire  to  accomplish  some  great  and 
good  thing;  love  contending  with  various  almost  insur- 
mountable obstacles,  etc.  The  moment  at  which  the 
battle  turns  and  the  contest  is  decided,  that  is  the  climax. 
Others  define  it  as  the  moment  when,  the  threads  of  narra- 
tive having  reached  a  point  of  supreme  entanglement,  the 
denouement  (from  a  French  word  meaning  to  untie)  sets  in 
and  we  have  the  final  unraveling  of  the  mystery.    One 


160  THE  STUDY  OF   LITERATURE 

writer  cleverly  characterizes  it  as  the  point  where  the 
''beginning  begins  to  end  and  the  end  begins  to  begin," 
and  also  as  "the  place  where  the  consequences  set  in." 
Popularly  it  is  known  as  the  point  of  greatest  interest, 
where  all  mystery  is  cleared  away,  no  element  of  curiosity 
remaining  ungratified.  It  should  be  borne  in  mind,  how- 
ever, that  most  stories  have  a  number  of  climaxes,  that 
is,  a  number  of  dramatic  moments  or  situations,  as  they  are 
called,  when  the  reader's  interest  is  greatly  quickened.  A 
lively  story,  indeed,  is  a  series  of  such  minor  chmaxes 
leading  with  ever  increasing  interest  up  to  the  grand 
climax  near  or  at  the  end — a  crisis  which  in  case  of  tragedy 
becomes  a  catastrophe  (from  a  Greek  verb  meaning  to 
overturn.) 

Although  every  incident  in  a  story  plays  its  part  in 
building  the  complete  narrative,  not  all  incidents  serve 
•  -H  f  directly  to  advance  the  action  of  the  story. 
This  is  suggested  in  the  illustration  which 
likens  the  plot  to  a  stream.  Many  are  introduced 
mainly  with  a  view  to  simply  getting  the  reader  and 
the  characters  better  acquainted.  These  are  sometimes 
called  character  incidents  to  distinguish  them  from  plot 
incidents  which  actually  drive  the  story  onward.  Others 
serve  but  to  acquaint  the  reader  with  conditions  which 
should  be  known  that  later  action  may  be  understood. 
In  all  of  Scott's  historical  romances  there  are  incidents  of 
this  kind  which  acquaint  the  reader  with  the  customs  of 
the  times  with  which  the  romances  deal.  They  add  vivid- 
ness, help  the  reader  to  understand  and  appreciate  the 
main  incidents,  and  commonly  furnish  relief  from  the  more 
exciting  crises.  An  incident  or  group  of  incidents  of  this 
sort,  growing  out  of  a  story  yet  separable  from  it,  is  some- 
times called  an  episode.  The  bursting  of  the  wine  cask  in 
A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  is  an  episode.    To  distinguish  between 


THE  STUDY  OF  PROSE  FICTION         161 

a  plot  incident  and  an  episode  or  character  incident  often 
calls  for  nice  discrimination. 

The  term  sub-plot  or  minor  plot  is  self-explanatory.  In- 
tertwined with  the  main  narrative,  where  hero  and  heroine 
principally  are  concerned,  often  will  be 
found  minor  narratives,  perhaps  having  to 
do  with  butler  and  maid.  A  novel  by  Dickens  sometimes 
suggests  a  community  of  stories  nicely  interlaced  or  in- 
terrelated, brought  into  unity  by  some  one  series  of  in- 
cidents more  commanding  than  all  the  rest.  Life  itself, 
which  the  novelist  tries  to  mirror,  is  thus  complex,  each 
individual  at  one  time,  it  may  be,  playing  the  role  of  hero 
in  one  chain  of  incidents,  the  role  of  villain  in  a  second, 
and  subordinate  roles  in  many  others. 

Without  a  plot  there  can  be  no  story;  without  characters 
there  can  be  no  plot.  A  slight  acquaintance  with  fiction 
suffices  to  show  that  novels  differ  widely  in 
respect  to  the  number  of  characters  intro- 
duced. Eight  or  ten  is  perhaps  the  average,  though  in  a 
novel  by  Dickens  or  Thackeray  one  may  meet  with  five 
times  as  many,  usually  belonging  to  two  more  or  less  dis- 
tinctly defined  groups,  a  principal  and  a  subordinate. 
The  characters  in  the  principal  group  are  as  necessary  as 
the  plot  itself;  the  subordinates  serve  a  variety  of  purposes. 
Some  contribute  humor,  reminding  us  of  Shakespeare's 
jesters.  Uncle  Venner,  a  minor  character  in  House  of  the 
Seven  Gables,  serves  as  Hawthorne's  mouthpiece  for  bits 
of  homely  philosophy — as  if  the  author,  knowing  full  well 
that  to  talk  directly  to  his  readers  over  the  heads  of  his 
characters  would  be  as  great  a  blunder  as  for  the  dramatist 
to  appear  on  the  stage,  had  disguised  himself  as  a  ragged 
philosopher  and  thus  become  a  legitimate  part  of  the  story 
he  is  telling.  Characters  are  brought  in  to  convey  nec- 
essary information,  to  supply  parts  of  the  story  which 


162  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

lie  back  of  the  beginning,  and  other  parts  which,  though 
essential,  are  of  too  little  dramatic  interest  to  be  handled 
in  detail.  They  give  reminiscences,  they  gossip  about  their 
superiors,  and  the  eavesdropping  reader  gathers  the  drift 
of  events  from  their  conversation.  Sometimes  they  are 
introduced  for  no  other  apparent  reason  than  to  convey 
the  impression  of  numbers  so  necessary  to  make  the  nar- 
rative lifelike,  as  is  the  case  with  the  characters  in  Silas 
Marner  who  are  seen  at  the  Rainbow  Inn. 

But  it  would  take  many  pages  to  enumerate  all  the  pur- 
poses served  by  minor  characters.    Enough  has  been  said 

to  suggest  that  fiction-reading  becomes  more 
e  s     y  0      intelligent  and  pleasurable  as  we  learn  to 

detect  these  hidden  purposes;  learn  to  ob- 
serve the  economy  of  some  authors,  the  lavish  generosity 
of  others  who  delight  in  bringing  character  after  character 
into  being;  and  to  estimate  in  some  measure  an  author's 
power  by  the  range  of  his  creations,  the  number  of  different 
types  he  has  the  ability  to  handle.  There  is  keen  pleasure 
too  in  watching  an  author's  method  of  handling  his  char- 
acters. What  is  his  way  of  bringing  them  into  the  story? 
How  does  he  reveal  their  personality — through  their 
words,  through  their  deeds,  through  reports  from  other 
characters,  or  directly  by  peering  into  their  minds  and 
hearts  and  informing  the  reader  what  thoughts  and  mo- 
tives lie  hidden  there?  Does  he  describe  their  outward 
appearance?  Does  he  make  them  develop  morally,  under- 
going change  as  the  story  progresses,  or  do  they  remain 
the  same  throughout?  Does  he  succeed  in  making  them 
always  act  ''in  character" — that  is,  are  the  kings  always 
kingly,  boys  always  boyish,  etc.?  How,  finally,  does  he 
dismiss  his  characters?  These  points  and  many  others 
command  the  attention  and  the  pleasurable  interest  of 
the  trained  reader. 


THE  STUDY  OF  PROSE  FICTION         163 

That  the  invention  of  character  is  a  far  more  difficult 

matter  than  mere  plot  invention  is  attested  by  the  fact 

that  in  all  literature  there  are  but  few  really 

noble   and  immortal   characters   drawn  so    •  „^„+-  «"  ,^ 

invention  rare 

true  to  life  that  they  seem  real  men  and 
women  whom,  should  they  appear  at  our  door,  we  should 
readily  recognize.     Cheap  fiction  swarms  with  ''stock" 
or  conventionalized  creatures,  mere  dummies,  not  crea- 
tions at  all. 

Under  setting  is  sometimes  included  not  only  descriptive 
passages  but  all  explanatory  matter  introduced  to  make 
the  action  clearer.  Explanation  is  less 
pleasing  than  exciting  incident,  and  readers 
have  a  way  of  skipping  descriptive  paragraphs;  therefore 
many  writers  confine  themselves  very  closely  to  incidents 
and  deftly  weave  into  the  narrative  the  little  description 
and  explanation  absolutely  necessary,  leaving  much  to  the 
imagination.  But  let  us  consider  a  few  of  the  many  pur- 
poses served  by  descriptive  passages. 

First,  it  need  not  be  said,  some  sort  of  picture  of  the 
place  where  the  action  occurs  is  almost  always  desirable, 
merely  as  an  aid  to  the  imagination;  and  if 
the  action  depends  in  any  way  on  the  nature    description 
of  the  place,  or  on  weather  conditions,  it 
becomes  actually  necessary.      For   example,  the  storm 
which  in  the  thrilling  sea-tale  calls  forth  the  hero's  quick 
wit  and  daring  must  be  painted  in  all  its  fury.    Second, 
a  quiet  descriptive  passage  forms  a  pleasing  relief,  often- 
times, after  pages  of  exciting  incident.    It  is  poor  art  to 
keep  the  reader's  nerves  too  long  at  high  tension.    Third, 
description  may  be  made  to  intensify  dramatic  effect, 
either  through  contrast  or  harmony.     For  example,  the 
author  may  first  paint  an  early  morning  village  scene,  the 
sun  just  peeping  above  the  hills,  smoke  rising  calmly  from 


164  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

chimneys  here  and  there,  the  milkman  going  his  rounds. 

Then,  the  reader's  mind  filled  with  this  peaceful  quiet, 

the  author  throws  open  the  door  of  the  cottage  from  whose 

chimney  no  smoke  arises  and  reveals  evidence  of  an  awful 

crime.    As  for  nature  in  harmony  with  action,  everyone 

knows  that  in  fiction-land  wedding  days  are  invariably 

free  from  tempests.    It  would  be  a  mean  author  who  should 

create  a  pair  of  newly  plighted  lovers  and  not  give  them  a 

flowery  lane  down  which  to  wander.     All  through  House 

of  the  Seven  Gables  there  are  little  descriptive  passages 

which  so  reflect  the  changing  mood  of  the  story  that  even 

were  the  plot  incidents  removed,  one  might  easily  guess 

the  dramatic  variations  of  the  narrative.     Perhaps  such 

use  of  description  is  more  poetic  than  natural,  yet  in  the 

hands  of  a  master  it  becomes  very  effective.     Finally, 

there  are  novelists  who  dare  halt  their  narrative  from  time 

to  time  and  give  extended  passages  of  detailed  description 

not  absolutely  essential  to  the  story.    They  do  so,  it  may 

be,  because  their  purpose  is  not  solely  to  tell  a  story  but 

to  acquaint  the  reader  with  the  rare  beauties  of  some 

region,  much  as  the  writer  of  historical  fiction  includes  in 

his    narrative    incidents    which    picture    long-ago    times 

though  they  serve  but  indirectly  to  advance  the  story. 

That  every  piece  of  fiction  contains  a  clearly  definable 

central  truth  serving  as  a  pivotal  point  is  hardly  demon- 

^    ^  1  x_  xt-     strable.    Many  narratives  are  thus  unified; 
C6iitr&l  trutn 

some  are  not,  though  most  if  not  all  are 

somewhat    unified    by    a    controlling    idea    or    motive. 

Hawthorne's  stories  are  little  sermons  in  fiction  form, 

each    driving   home   with   wonderful    force    some  great 

moral    truth,    easily    discoverable.      Dickens    fashioned 

stories  designed  to  picture  great  abuses  so  glaringly  that 

reforms  would  follow;  that  is  to  say,  he  wrote  with  a 

definite  purpose  in  mind.    No  small  part  of  modern  fiction 


THE  STUDY  OF  PROSE  FICTION         165 

is  made  up  of  problem  novels,  each  of  which  has,  as  a  cen- 
tral motive,  the  desire  to  suggest  an  answer  to  some  vexing 
social  question.  Perhaps  the  strongest  statement  that 
should  be  made  is  that  every  novelist  writes  with  a  motive. 
Frequently  it  is  but  the  praiseworthy  desire  to  entertain; 
sometimes  it  is  a  desire  to  impart  information  in  pleasing 
manner  or  to  point  the  way  to  reform,  or  to  emphasize  a 
great  moral  truth. 

As  we  grow  older  and  more  familiar  with  plots,  familiar 
too  with  the  thousand  and  one  well-worn  devices  by  which 
authors  strive  to  make  their  stories  salable, 
our  pleasure  in  current  fiction  by  little  known  pej-gonalitv 
authors  grows  less  keen,  and  we  find  our- 
selves returning  inevitably  to  such  masterpieces  as  those 
produced  by  Scott,  Dickens,  Thackeray,  and  George  Eliot. 
These  half -forgotten  stories  we  read  and  reread,  not  alone 
because  the  narratives  are  so  great  that  they  never  lose 
their  attraction,  but  because  we  are  homesick  for  the 
authors  themselves.  No  one  can  write  for  many  years, 
inventing  scenes,  inventing  incidents,  without  putting 
very  nearly  his  entire  self  into  his  books.  There  lie  ex- 
posed his  ideas,  his  fondest  fancies  and  dreams,  his  con- 
ceptions of  what  is  noble  and  of  what  is  low  and  mean. 
Peculiar  ways  of  looking  at  things,  even  little  tricks  of 
expression  which  are  distinctly  his  own,  all  are  there. 
In  a  word,  it  is  the  charm  of  the  author's  fully  revealed 
personality  that  draws  us  like  a  magnet,  and  we  find  such 
pleasures  as  old  friends  experience  when  they  meet  after 
years  of  separation. 

This  element  of  personality  which  enters  into  every  great 
novel  is,  we  grow  to  think,  a  very  essential  thing  after  all, 
not  to  be  neglected  in  any  masterpiece.  Study  the  plot, 
the  characters,  the  setting.  Try  to  determine  what  is 
the  central  truth  or  underlying  motive  which  vitalizes 


166  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

the  story.  But  above  all,  try  to  find  the  author;  seek  for 
him  ''between  the  lines/'  If  he  is  noble,  make  him  your 
friend  and  treat  him  as  such.  A  good  book  once  read,  do 
not  put  it  aside  for  all  time;  take  it  from  the  shelf  now  and 
then,  not  perhaps  for  a  complete  reading,  but  for  the  pur- 
pose of  spending  an  hour  or  two  with  an  old  acquaintance 
who  is  something  more  and  better  than  a  mere  story-teller. 
Here,  finally,  are  a  few  questions  which  may  prove 

helpful  to  those  who  are  fond  of  fiction  and 
Questions  would  like  to  add  to  their  enjoyment  by 

learning  how  to  read  with  a  somewhat  more 
critical  eye: 

Plot 

Plot  made  up  of  many  incidents,  or  few?  One  plot  only, 
or  a  main  plot  plus  one  or  more  subordinate  ones?  Incidents 
arranged  in  natural,  chronological  sequence,  or  arranged  in 
inverted  order  for  dramatic  effect?  Incidents  taken  from  real 
life,  invented  but  probable,  barely  possible,  or  impossible?  In- 
cidents involving  physical  action,  or  inner  (moral)  struggle? 
Plot  stereotyped — that  is,  following  well-beaten  trails,  or  orig- 
inal? Quiet  or  thrilling?  All  the  incidents  necessary?  Any  used 
to  reveal  character?  Any  used  to  supply  information  or  to 
afford  relief  from  the  strain  accompanying  tragic  scenes?  In- 
cidents mainly  comic,  or  pathetic?  Is  the  climax  strong?  What 
incident  forms  the  climax?  Does  accident  play  an  important 
part  in  the  disentanglement?  Is  the  plot  the  most  essential 
element  in  the  story?  Which  of  the  following  adjectives  best 
describe  the  plot:  simple,  commonplace,  trivial,  quiet,  stereo- 
typed, feeble,  amateurish,  interesting,  clever,  dramatic,  thrilling, 
melodramatic,  romantic,  highly  imaginative,  ingenious,  long- 
drawn-out? 

Characters 

Many  or  few?  Different  types,  or  only  two  or  three?  One 
group  only,  or  a  principal  group  plus  one  or  more  subordi- 
nate groups?  Natural,  idealized,  caricatured,  or  conventional? 
Commonplace,  or  interesting?     How  brought  into  the  story, 


I 


THE  STUDY  OF  PROSE  FICTION         167 

how  dismissed?  What  purpose  do  the  subordinate  charac- 
ters serve?  How  does  the  reader  become  acquainted  with 
the  characters — by  what  they  do,  what  they  say,  what  others 
say  about  them,  the  effect  they  produce  on  others,  or  by  what 
the  author  says  about  them  directly — peeping  into  their  minds 
and  letting  the  reader  know  what  motives  he  hidden  there? 
Are  any  of  them  tagged — that  is,  recognizable  by  some  pecu- 
liarity of  speech,  etc.?  Do  they  always  act  in  character?  Do 
they  show  wide  acquaintance,  on  the  author's  part,  with  men 
and  women?  Do  they  show  that  the  author  understands  human 
nature?  Does  the  author  regard  them  with  affection?  Is  there 
an  out-and-out  hero  or  heroine  and  a  pronounced  villain?  Are 
the  characters  more  interesting  than  the  plot?  Where  is  the 
author  at  his  best,  in  plot  construction  or  in  character  delinea- 
tion?   Which  of  the  characters  do  you  see  most  clearly? 

Setting 

Does  the  story  begin  immediately  with  action,  or  with  pre- 
liminary pages  explaining  the  time,  place,  and  attending  cir- 
cumstances? Does  the  author,  upon  introducing  a  character, 
give  a  detailed  portrait,  or  is  the  portrait  given  in  bits  adroitly 
inserted?  Are  nature  descriptions  frequent  and  lengthy?  Do 
they  seem  unnecessary — not  closely  related  to  the  plot?  Are 
the  descriptions  natural  or  idealized?  Real  or  imagined?  Is 
description  introduced  for  its  own  artistic  beauty,  to  help  the 
reader  to  visualize,  to  intensify  some  dramatic  effect,  or  to  re- 
lieve tension?  Is  there  much  weather  in  the  story?  Are  the 
descriptions  in  contrast  to  the  mood  of  the  story  or  in  harmony 
with  it?  Do  the  nature  descriptions  ever  hint  at  the  trend  the 
story  is  to  take?  Do  the  descriptions  form  an  important  element 
in  the  story?  Is  the  author  as  good  at  description  as  at  character 
delineation  or  at  plot  construction?  What  in  externals  impresses 
him  most  deeply?   • 

The  Central  Truth  or  Controlling  Purpose 

What  is  the  theme  of  the  story?  The  most  important  truth? 
Is  the  story  told  to  enforce  some  truth?  Does  the  truth  appear 
to  grow  naturally  out  of  the  narrative?  Does  the  story  contain 
too  much  teaching  or  moraUzing?    If  the  story  has  a  moral,  is 


168  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

it  self-evident,  or  baldly  stated  at  the  close?    Do  you  agree  with 
the  author  in  all  his  views? 

The  Author 

Is  he  sincere?  thoughtful?  emotional?  of  artistic  tempera- 
ment? Is  his  range  of  experience  wide  or  narrow?  Does  he 
understand  human  nature?  Is  he  sympathetic?  Are  his  ideals 
high?  What  seems  to  you  the  most  attractive  elements  in  his 
personality?    What  in  his  art  as  a  novelist  do  you  most  admire? 

Note. — See  Appendix  for  questions  on  Silas  Marner. 


CHAPTER  XVII 
W/  THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA 

A  recent  theatre  program  not  only  names  the  playwright 
and  gives  the  cast  (the  assignment  of  parts  to  the  actors) 
but  tells  by  whom  the  production  is  staged, 
who   directs  the   music,   who  painted   the    f^j.  gt^^y^ 
scenery,  who  should  receive  credit  for  the 
mechanical    and    electrical    effects,    who    provided    the 
properties    (stage   requisites   other   than    costumes   and 
scenery),  who  is  technical  supervisor,  and  even  who  de- 
signed the  gowns  and  costumes  and  who  made  the  shoes. 
This  long  list  of  items  serves  well  to  illustrate  that  plays 
are  not  meant  to  be  read  but  to  be  witnessed,  and  that 
the  proper  place  for  the  study  of  the  drama  is  the  theatre. 

But  serious  difficulties  lie  in  the  way.    Comparatively 
few  of  us  live  in  large  towns  or  cities  where  there  are  good 
theatres;  and  those  who  are  city-dwellers    _ 
find  that  really  good  plays  are  presented    .    ^ 
none  too  often,  and  that  certain  dramas  well 
worth  studying  are  never  staged.     The  great  majority, 
therefore,  must  content  themselves  with  reading  at  home; 
and  since  relatively  little  of  modern  drama  is  available 
in  book  form,  in  many  cases  this  must  mean  reading 
Shakespeare  only.    The  purpose  of  this  chapter  is  to  offer 
simple  suggestions  in  regard  to  how  plays,  Shakespeare's 
in  particular,  may  be  read  to  advantage.    _ 
These  suggestions  focus  in  the  three  words 
playgoer,    play-actor,    and    playwright.      Briefly,    they 
amount  to  but  this:  First,  imagine  yourself  a  playgoer; 

169 


170  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

second,  imagine  yourself  an  actor;  third,  imagine  yourself 
a  playwright.    They  form  a  climax  of  increasing  difficulty. 
The  average  playgoer  is  no  close  student  of  dramatic 
art.    He  is  an  enviable  pleasure-seeker,  most  fortunate 
if,  as  the  orchestra  ceases,  the  lights  in  the 
auditorium  fade  away,  and  the  great  curtain 
slowly  rises,  he  can  forget  absolutely  that  he 
is  in  a  theatre,  forget  footlights,  forget  paint  and  powder 
and  canvas  trees,  forget  all  the  conventions  of  the  stage — 
such  as  that  every  room  has  but  three  sides  and  a  slanting 
floor — and  become,  as  it  were,  an  eavesdropping  spirit 
privileged  to  witness  scene  after  scene,  apparently  real, 
though  picturing  a  life  somewhat  fuller  of  laughter  and 
tears  than  that  in  which  he  actually  lives,  and  moving  at  a 
swifter  rate,  with  all  the  humdrum  strangely  eliminated. 
In  a  word,  he  yields  himself  completely  to  the  magic  and 
is  swept  away  in  imagination,  sharing  the  emotions  repre- 
sented by  those  on  the  stage,  much  as  the  little  child  shares 
the  emotions  of  Little  Red  Ridinghood,  though  safely 
held  in  a  mother's  lap.    The  play  over,  he  continues  to 
think  of  the  action  as  something  real  and  of  the  actors 
as  people  whom  he  might  meet  were  his  lot  a  different  one. 
The  first  duty  of  the  student  who  is  not  privileged  to 
attend  the  theatre  is  the  pleasurable  one  of  gaining,  so  far 
as  he  can,  the  kind  of  impressions  received 
isuaizmg        ^y  average  theatre-goers.     Before  him  lies 
the  printed  page,  and  as  he  reads,  slowly 
yet  not  too  critically,  he  tries  to  get  the  story,  through 
imagination  visualizing,  or  making  real,  each  scene  and 
character.     Although   pleasurable,    this   is   nevertheless 
something  of  a  task,  involving  a  mental  effort  uncalled  for 
on  the  part  of  those  who  witness  plays.    It  is  necessary  to 
shut  the  eyes,  now  and  then,  and  try  to  imagine  the  natural 
setting  of  this  scene  and  that — the  courtroom  where  Portia 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  171 

makes  her  plea,  the  banquet  hall,  scene  of  Macbeth's  first 
royal  banquet,  the  forest  of  Arden  where  Rosalind  and 
lovesick  Orlando  meet.  One  must  imagine,  too,  how  each 
character  is  dressed,  and  with  what  voice  and  bodily  action 
the  words  are  spoken.  What  is  Macbeth's  appearance 
as  he  cries 

Lay  on,  Macduff, 
And  damn'd  be  him  that  first  cries,  'Hold,  enough!' 

and  what  is  the  manner  of  fighting  which  follows?  How 
are  the  weird  sisters  attired  in  the  first  scene  of  Macbeth, 
and  what  witch-like  actions  accompany  their  uncanny 
words?  With  questions  such  as  these,  the  imagination  is 
ever  kept  on  the  alert;  without  imagination,  play-reading 
is  a  dull  performance,  like  listening  to  conversation  too 
intricate  to  follow,  or  gazing  at  a  scene  partly  obscured  by 
fog.  Doubtless  one  reason  why  plays  are  so  seldom  printed 
is  that  comparatively  few  readers  are  willing  to  exercise 
their  imagination  sufficiently  to  gain  real  pleasure  merely 
from  the  dramatist's  words.    - 

The  second  step  in  drama  study  is  far  more  difficult.    It 
calls  for  a  much  closer  reading  than  the  first,  somewhat 
superficial  survey;  for  now  the  reader  must 
look  upon  the  play  through  the  eyes  of  actor 
and  stage  manager,  whose  duty  it  is  to  in- 
terpret the  dramatist's  words,  supply  suitable  action,  and 
provide  for  this  action  appropriate  stage  arrangement,  so 
that,  without  conscious  effort,  playgoers  may  get  all  that 
the  playwright's  imagination  has  invented.    Of  the  thou- 
sands who  throng  our  theatres,  how  few  ever  stop  to  think 
of  the  weeks  of  labor — the  close  study  of  lines,  the  mem- 
orizing of  parts,  the  planning  of  stage  effects,  the  rehears- 
als— which  lie  between  the  composing  and  the  final  pro- 
duction of  even  a  light  comedy.    What  we  see  in  a  modern 


172  THE   STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

presentation  of  one  of  Shakespeare's  plays  is  the  composite 
result  of  careful,  loving  study  on  the  part  of  many  genera- 
tions of  great  actors.  Without  some  degree  of  study  of  the 
kind  bestowed  by  actor  and  stage  manager,  one  cannot 
hope  to  fully  understand  and  appreciate  any  play. 

It  is  excellent  practice,  therefore,  to  make  a  plan  of 
the  stage  as  it  should  be  arranged  for  each  scene  of  the  play 
that  is  being  studied,  accompanying  it  with 
ment     ^^tes  explaining  in  detail  what  properties 
are  needed,  what  scenery,  where  the  char- 
acters should  enter  and  where  depart,  and  how  they  should 
be  grouped  at  critical  moments.    Macbeth  presents  many 
interesting  problems  in  stage  arrangement.    In  the  ban- 
quet scene,  for  example,  where  shall  the  table  be  placed 
and  where  the  Queen's  throne?     Where  shall  Banquo's 
stool  be  placed?     Where  should  the  Murderer  appear, 
and  where  Banquo's  ghost? 

Costuming,   too,   offers   an   attractive   line  of  study. 
How    many    costumes    will    Lady  Macbeth  need,   and 
what  should  they  be?    Macbeth  is  a  Scotch- 
man; should  he  be  dressed  as  a  Highland 
chief?    What  would  be  an  appropriate  costume  for  the 
Murderer?     for  the  Porter?     Dress  oftentimes  betrays 
character,  it  must  be  remembered.    Yet  it  should  not  be 
overlooked  that  what  is  true  of  stage-settings  in  general 
is  true  of  costumes;  they  can  be  made  to  attract  too  much 
attention,  thus  weakening  the  effect  of  words  and  actions. 
Words  and  actions,  after  all,  call  for  the  closest  study; 
and  so  much  of  our  reading  is  done  hurriedly,  with  a  view 

to  gaining  general  impressions  rather  than 
Interpretation  ^^        '^  r         xi,  x  n.  •     j-^     ix  x     r 

exact  meamngs,  that  it  is  dimcult  to  lorce 

ourselves  to  be  thorough,  as  we  must  be  in  study- 
ing Shakespeare.  ''Shakespeare  is  no  primer";  the 
thought  does  not  always  lie  on  the  surface.    Many  a  line 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  173 

challenges  our  best  powers.  And  Shakespeare's  language 
is  not  quite  modern.  He  employs  not  a  few  words  now 
obsolete,  and  others  which,  though  still  in  common  use, 
have  lost  their  original  force  or  meaning.  Moreover  he 
lived  at  a  time  when  people  took  delight  in  language  feats, 
in  startling  effects  obtainable  through  nice  skill  in  tossing 
words  about  and  through  clever  sentence-twists.  His 
English  is  not,  therefore,  straightforward;  many  a  sentence 
needs  disentangling.  Moreover,  he  wrote  not  for  publica- 
tion but  for  the  stage — for  oral  reproduction  to  be  helped 
out  by  facial  expression  and  action;  hence,  as  has  been 
pointed  out  more  than  once,  his  sentences  are  often  a 
series  of  cross-cuts,  sometimes  even  ungrammatical,  such 
as  we  use  in  rapid  conversation.  Coming  from  the  mouth 
of  an  actor,  they  are  clear  enough;  when  received  from 
the  printed  page,  they  are  frequently  troublesome.  Fi- 
nally, he  wrote  not  for  posterity  but  for  Londoners  of  his 
own  day,  and  therefore  made  allusions  to  passing  events 
long  since  forgotten.  Only  by  studying  the  comments  of 
scholars  who  have  devoted  years  to  patient  investigation 
can  we  hope  to  understand  certain  passages  which  pre- 
sented no  difficulty  whatever  to  the  apprentices  who 
crowded  the  Globe  theatre  in  Shakespeare's  day. 

Even  when  every  passage  is  reasonably  clear,  there  re- 
mains the  difficult  yet  delightful  task  of  determining  how 
each  sentence  should  be  spoken,  w4th  what 
volume  and  tone  and  modulation  of  voice, 
attended  by  what  facial  expression  and  what  action,  all 
of  which  calls  for  a  close  study  of  each  character.  For 
example,  consider  a  single  passage  in  the  second  scene  of 
the  second  act  of  Macbeth.  The  King  has  been  murdered. 
Macbeth,  dazed  and  remorseful,  his  imagination  still 
picturing  the  dreadful  deed  he  has  done,  stands  before  his 
wife.    After  a  few  scraps  of  hurried  conversation,  she  no- 


174  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

tices  that  he  bears  in  his  hands  the  bloody  daggers  which 
should  have  been  left  by  the  side  of  the  grooms  whom  she 
has  drugged  and  upon  whom  the  guilt  is  to  be  placed.  In 
alarm  she  bids  him  return  them  and  smear  the  sleepers 
with  blood.    Then  follows — 

Macbeth.     I'll  go  no  more. 

I  am  afraid  to  think  what  I  have  done; 

Look  on't  again  I  dare  not. 

Lady  Macbeth.    Infirm  of  purpose! 

Give  me  the  daggers :  the  sleeping  and  the  dead 

Are  but  as  pictures;  'tis  the  eye  of  childhood 

That  fears  a  painted  devil.     If  he  do  bleed, 

I'll  gild  the  faces  of  the  grooms  withal; 

For  it  must  seem  their  guilt.     (Exit) 

How  should  the  words  Give  me  the  daggers  be  spoken? 
Should  the  stress  be  upon  Give  or  mef  Are  they  words  of 
anger,  scorn,  or  determination?  Does  she  snatch  the 
daggers,  or  take  them  calmly,  or  as  if  it  required  all  the 
strength  of  will  she  can  muster?  Would  you  have  her 
leave  the  stage  hurriedly,  or  with  faltering  step?  And  how 
should  Macbeth  act  at  this  critical  moment?  Is  he  shamed, 
relieved,  or  too  dazed  to  know  what  is  happening? 

Few  are  the  scenes  in  any  great  play  which  do  not  con- 
tain little  problems  like  the  above,  and  the  thought  is 
inevitable  that  one  cannot  study  the  drama  successfully 
without  constant  experiment  in  oral  reading;  and  that 
most  effective  of  all  is  the  memorizing  of  parts  and  the 
presenting,  before  a  small  audience,  of  a  few  simple  scenes. 
A  single  trial  of  this  sort  will  do  far  more  towards  training 
the  appreciation  than  will  many  weeks  of  silent  study. 

Playgoer,  actor,  playwright — we  must  in  some  measure 
identify  ourselves  with  all  three,  if  we  wish  to  thoroughly 
understand  and  appreciate  any  drama.  The  first  two  steps 
in  this  three-fold  scheme  we  have  considered;  the  third, 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  175 

most  fundamental  of  all  and  to  many  the  most  interesting, 
remains.     It  consists  in  trying  to  think  out,  or  imagine, 
how  this  or  that  play  was  made — where  the 
plot  came  from;  how  the  raw  materials  were    -.j^^^i. 
worked  over,  the  available  sorted  out  from 
much  that  was  unsuitable,  and  reshaped  to  fit  the  dram- 
atist's purpose;  what  laws  of  construction  were  followed 
in  the  writing  of  scenes  and  acts.    In  short  it  consists  in 
an  attempt  to  learn  something  of  the  art  of  playwriting 
through  following,  so  far  as  it  is  discoverable,  the  trail  of 
the  dramatist. 

Study  of  this  kind  very  soon  reveals  how  different  is  the 
task  of  the  dramatist  from  that  which  confronts  the  writer 
of  novels.  For  plays  must  be  acted  on  a  The  play- 
stage  commonly  not  over  seventy  feet  wide  wright's 
by  forty  deep,  the  parts  taken  by  a  limited  limitations 
number  of  actors,  before  an  audience  which  will  remain 
but  little  over  two  hours.  Such  a  story  as  Stevenson  tells 
in  The  Wreckers,  for  example,  or  Scott  in  Ivanhoe,  or  Hugo 
in  Les  Miserahles  cannot  well  be  limited  to  a  space  seventy 
by  forty,  nor  told  satisfactorily  in  two  hours.  Modern 
ingenuity  recognizes  few  things  as  impossible,  yet  sea- 
fights,  earthquakes,  floods,  forest  fires,  and  much  else 
that  the  novelist  handles  readily,  lie  beyond  the  range  of 
satisfactory  stage  presentation.  The  novelist  may  trans- 
port his  readers  from  continent  to  continent,  from  pole  to 
pole;  the  dramatist  must  content  himself  with  but  few 
scenes.  The  novelist  deals  with  individuals  who  may 
take  their  time  in  reading  his  pages,  skipping  at  will  dull 
passages,  or  putting  the  book  aside  when  interest  wanes. 
The  dramatist  deals  with  large  companies  of  individuals, 
differing  widely  in  their  tastes,  the  attention  of  all  of  whom 
must  be  captured  at  the  outset  and  held  through  the  per- 
formance by  means  of  a  series  of  incidents  that  keep  curi- 


176  THE   STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

osity  ever  alert  to  observe  what  will  happen  next.  Finally, 
we  are  too'apt  to  forget  that  the  story  of  the  play  must  be 
one  in  which  deep  emotions  can  be  expressed  mainly  by 
words,  facial  expression,  and  gesture;  and  that  nearly 
all  the  action  must  take  place  before  the  eyes  of  the 
spectators. 

The  dramatist,  then,  is  hampered  by  troublesome  limit- 
ations. Although  he  no  longer  observes  the  old  '^ unities" 
of  time,  place,  and  action,  which  prescribed 
that  the  time  represented  as  elapsing  should 
not  exceed  a  period  of  twenty-four  hours,  the  scene  remain 
unchanged,  and  the  action  be  single  rather  than  a  number 
of  stories  interlaced,  still  he  is  far  less  free  than  other 
story-tellers.  As,  through  study,  we  become  familiar  with 
the  restrictions  to  which  his  art  is  subject,  the  diflficulties 
of  play-writing  become  more  evident  and  our  appreciation 
of  good  plays  increases  accordingly. 

From  what  has  been  said  it  is  obvious  that  the  success 
of  the  dramatist  lies  in  no  small  degree  in  his  abiUty  to 
.  recognize  appropriate  matter.  Shakespeare 
left  no  record  of  his  method  of  play-making; 
yet  his  works  have  received  so  much  study  that  the 
sources  of  most  of  his  plots  are  now  known,  and  it  is 
very  interesting  to  observe  how  this  great  master  selected 
his  raw  materials  and  changed  them  magically  into  great 
plays.  School  editions  of  his  Macbeth  include  the  pages 
from  Holinshed's  Chronicle  with  which  he  must  have  been 
familiar,  enabling  us  to  trace  the  changes  the  bald  narrative 
underwent  as  he  adapted  it  to  stage  requirements.  A 
few  passages  in  the  play  follow  Holinshed  almost  word  for 
word.  But  we  note  that  he  has  selected  incidents  rather 
than  appropriated  the  entire  narrative,  that  he  has  brought 
together  events  which  in  reality  were  remote  in  time,  has 
shifted  action  from  this  place  to  that,  brought  into  promi- 


THE  STUDY   OF  DRAMA  177 

nence  individuals  belonging  historically  to  the  background, 
transferred  or  bestowed  traits  of  character  at  will,  indeed 
taken  the  many  liberties  necessary  in  order  to  make  of  the 
historical  record  a  dramatic  unity.  In  Merchant  of  Venice 
we  find  him  intertwining  three  stories  so  cunningly  that 
they  seem  but  one.  As  You  Like  It  is  but  an  adaptation 
of  a  popular  Elizabethan  romance.  Rarely,  if  ever,  did 
he  invent  an  entire  plot  outright;  his  genius  found  exercise 
in  selecting,  reshaping,  rearranging  material  at  hand  and 
expressing  all  in  noble  verse. 

But  studying  sources  and  comparing  raw  materials  with 
finished  products,  though  interesting  and  profitable,  is 
merely  preliminary  to  studying  plot  con- 
struction in  detail.     Much  that  has  been  ^     ^. 

construction 
said  m  the  chapter  on  the  novel  applies  here 

as  well.  A  play,  like  most  novels,  is  made  up  of  incidents 
arising  because  of  a  struggle  of  some  kind — a  struggle 
which  becomes  more  and  more  tense,  climax  following 
climax,  till  a  turning-point  or  grand  climax  is  reached; 
then  the  action  drives  on,  still  a  series  of  dramatic  moments, 
to  its  close,  which  in  tragedy  is  called  a  catastrophe.  Plays 
differ  in  structure-plan,  as  do  novels,  but  the  following 
diagram  is  often  used  to  illustrate  the  common  features  : 


A  B,  called  the  introduction,  covers  the  earlier  scenes  which 
serve  principally  to  acquaint  us  with  the  preliminaries — 
what  happened  prior  to  the  beginning  of  the  main  action  of 
the  play,  or  the  attending  circumstances.  Somewhere  near 
the  beginning  is  a  point  B,  not  always  easily  discoverable, 


178  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

where  we  find  what  is  called  the  inciting  force,  which  defi- 
nitely begins  the  conflict  between  the  opposing  forces. 
C  represents  the  grand  climax.  A  C  is  called 
terminoloev  ^^^  rising  action,  the  entanglement,  or  the 
complication;  C  D  is  called  the  falling  action 
or  the  resolution.  D,  in  tragedy,  represents  the  catastrophe. 
The  diagram  would  convey  a  better  impression,  perhaps, 
if  the  lines  B  C  and  C  D  were  jagged,  suggesting  a  series  of 
dramatic  moments  rather  than  a  smooth  running  story. 

Here  are  seven  of  the  more  important  points  to  note  in 
studying  a  given  plot:  1.  The  manner  in  which  introductory 
Plot  study:  matter  is  handled.  The  novelist  may  devote 
introductory  an  entire  chapter  to  preliminaries,  for  he  has 
matter  plenty  of  time  in  which  to  tell  his  story;  or 

he  may  plunge  into  the  midst  of  his  narrative,  win  atten- 
tion through  some  exciting  incident,  then  '^ double  back'' 
to  the  real  beginning  and  explain  whatever  is  necessary. 
But  in  drama  every  minute  is  precious;  the  story  cannot, 
ordinarily,  be  made  to  double  on  itself;  and  the  restless 
audience  must  be  captured  at  the  outset.  Getting  a  play 
well  started,  therefore,  calls  for  great  skill.  The  explana- 
tion of  the  circumstances  out  of  which  the  action  of  the 
play  grows  must  be  as  brief  as  possible,  much  being  left 
to  be  inferred,  and  that  which  cannot  be  inferred  introduced 
not  all  at  once,  but  inserted  here  and  there  throughout 
the  first  act  as  it  is  needed.  It  is  excellent  practice  to  run 
through  a  first  act  and  pick  out  all  that  is  purely  explana- 
tory. 

2.  Method  of  introducing  characters  and  of  getting  them 

off  the  stage.    Usually,  before  an  important  character  ap- 

pears,  he  is  talked  about  by  the  minor  char- 

and  exits  acters,  that  interest  in  him  may  be  aroused 

and  that  he  may  be  recognized  when  he 

makes  his  entrance.     The  witches,  in  the  first  scene  of 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  179 

Macbeth,  announce  that  they  are  planning  to  meet  Mac- 
beth very  soon,  and  the  audience  wonders  who  he  can  be. 
In  the  second  scene  we  are  told  more  about  him — of  his 
valor  in  the  battle  which  is  still  raging,  and  the  King 
announces  new  honors  to  be  conferred  upon  him.  When 
therefore  he  at  last  appears,  it  is  not  as  a  stranger  but  as  a 
hero  whom  the  spectators  are  anxious  to  see.  Moreover, 
seldom  is  it  artistic  to  introduce  all  the  leading  characters  at 
once,  lest  confusion  result  and  lest  the  interest  be  divided. 
It  is  more  effective  to  scatter  the  thrills  which  should  be 
caused  at  first  sight  of  important  personages.  And  great 
care  too  is  shown  by  the  skilled  playwright  in  clearing 
the  stage  of  characters  when  they  are  no  longer  needed. 
The  actor  who  has  spoken  his  lines  cannot  simply  walk 
off;  the  audience  must  be  told  why  he  is  going,  and  the 
reason  must  be  plausible. 

3.  The  ingenuity  of  the  playwright  in  inventing  a  com- 
plication. It  is  not  an  easy  task  to  invent  circumstance 
after  circumstance  leading  to  situations  more 

and  more  complex,  introducing  force  after  ,.  . 
force  pulling  the  hero  this  way  and  that  till 
the  entanglement  seems  beyond  all  straightening  out. 
Plays  have  been  written  for  so  many  centuries  that  the 
more  obvious  ways  of  complication  are  well  known.  It  is 
therefore  a  difficult  matter  to  avoid  old  trails,  or  so  to  re- 
dress old  schemes  of  entanglement  that  they  have  an 
appearance  of  novelty.  It  is  an  interesting  problem, 
though  frequently  difficult,  especially  when  several  stories 
are  intertwined,  to  pick  out  all  the  complicating  elements 
and  determine  whether  they  are  old  or  new. 

4.  The  skilful  employment  of  scenes  for  contrast,  for  re- 
lief, or  to  foreshadow  coming  events.  A  tragic  moment  seems 
the  more  tragic  if  it  follows  one  in  lighter  mood;  wicked- 
ness stands  out  more  vividly  against  a  background  of  in- 


180  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

nocence.  There  must  be  breathing  spells  too;  for  an  un- 
interrupted series  of  thrills  may  become  exhausting.  These 
are  recognized  principles  in  all  forms  of 
forellTad^ing  s^ory-telling;  and  so  is  a  third  which  pro- 
hibits violent  surprise.  A  degree  of  surprise 
there  must  be,  it  is  true,  and  without  suspense  interest 
cannot  be  held;  yet  it  is  a  common  practice  to  foreshadow 
dramatic  moments,  thereby  preparing  for  what  is  coming. 

5.  Ingenuity  in  constructing  the  grand  climax.     Every 
scene  has  its  element  of  suspense  and  surprise;  every  act 

^^     ,.  is  in  structure  a  little  play  by  itself,  with 

The  climax         ^       .  ,...:. 

tragic  moments  rismg  m  mterest  to  a  su- 
preme moment  near  or  at  the  end.  But  one  of  the  most 
trying  tests  of  a  plajrwright's  power  is  his  ability  to 
invent  a  supreme  situation,  novel,  inevitable  because  of 
what  has  gone  before,  in  a  way  combining  or  focusing  all 
the  dramatic  crises  of  earlier  scenes — a  trying  situation 
where  for  an  instant  the  fate  of  the  hero  hangs  in  balance. 
It  is  the  final  'Hying  of  the  knot/'  without  which  a  play 
fails  to  be  a  play. 

6.  Skill  in  handling  the  resolution  or  falling  action.    It  is 
not  always  an  easy  matter  to  sustain  interest  as  a  play 

nears  its  close.  The  skilled  playwright 
*' unravels  his  knot"  rapidly,  climax  follow- 
ing climax  in  quick  succession,  the  suspense  strongly 
maintained  till  the  final  revelation  is  made — a  conclusion 
growing  naturally  out  of  all  that  had  gone  before,  satisfy- 
ing ''poetic  justice,"  and  gratifying  fully  the  curiosity 
first  aroused  in  the  opening  scenes. 

7.  Skill  in  adapting  the  play  to  stage  requirements.    Al- 

though a  matter  of  great  practical  impor- 
tance, this  topic  cannot  be  treated  in  detail, 
requirements 

It  will  suffice,  perhaps,  to  observe  that  there 
are  many  incidents  inappropriate  for  stage  representa- 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  181 

tion,  that  time  is  required  for  shifting  scenery  and  for 
changing  costumes — matters  too  often  overlooked  by  in- 
experienced writers. 

Difficult  as  it  is  to  invent  a  good  plot,  it  requires  greater 
genius  to  create  people  to  do  and  say  the  things  that  the 
plot  calls  for.     A  considerable  part  of  the 
time  bestowed  by  the  student  upon  Shake-    characters 
speare's  plays  is  devoted,  very  properly,  to 
his  characters.    Here  are  a  few  points  to  observe: 

1.  Whether  the  play  calls  for  careful  delineation  of  char- 
acter.  In  some  cases,  notably  in  light  comedy  and  farce, 
characters  may  be  of  secondary  importance. 

The  real  interest  centers  in  clever  situations  ^jej^jjeation 
sure  to  be  remembered  long  after  characters 
are  forgotten.  Other  plays  present  quite  the  reverse:  a 
series  of  incidents  of  little  moment  in  themselves  and 
quickly  forgotten,  yet  serving  to  throw  a  strong  light  upon 
some  central  figure,  a  character  never  to  be  forgotten. 
In  great  plays,  both  these  elements  are  present. 

2.  Number  and  range  of  characters.    There  are  dramatists 
who,  though  authors  of  many  plays,  have  created  few 
characters.    Of  two  or  three  types  they  may    Number  and 
be  masters;  beyond  this  limited  field  their    range  of 

art  fails  them.  In  marked  contrast  is  Shake-  characters 
speare,  whose  creations  range  from  kings  to  beggars  and 
knaves,  from  decrepit  age  to  youth,  no  two  characters 
alike,  a  vast  compauy  most  of  whom  seem  as  real  to  us 
as  the  people  we  meet  daily,  so  strongly  are  they  individ- 
ualized. And  among  them  are  many  heroic  minds,  and 
strong,  attractive  personalities.  At  the  conclusion  of  a 
modern  play,  we  sometimes  feel  that  though  the  hours  have 
passed  pleasantly,  the  characters  whose  words  we  have 
listened  to  are,  after  all,  rather  ordinary  and  weak.  There 
are   weak   and    commonplace   figures    in   Shakespeare's 


182  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

stage  world,  but  most  of  them  are  strongly  imagined,  and 
every  play  contains  a  few  characters  whom  we  recognize 
as  being  of  no  common  mould.  They  are  notable  speci- 
mens of  humanity. 

3.  Whether  the  characters  are  true  to  life,  always  acting 
consistently,  or  mere  puppets — stock,  conventional  figures. 

A  very  little  play-going  is  sufficient  to  con- 
characters         vince   one   that    perhaps   the   majority   of 

characters  in  modern  drama  are  but  stock 
figures — conventional  heroes  and  heroines  and  villains, 
conventional  butlers  and  maids,  conventional  dowagers, 
conventional  uncles  from  India,  whom  we  quickly  recog- 
nize as  each  makes  his  entrance  and  proceeds  with  time- 
worn  ''business,''  for  all  the  world  like  similar  characters 
in  story-books.  And  there  are  inconsistent  characters 
whose  words  and  actions,  as  the  play  proceeds,  do  not  ring 
true  to  their  individualities  as  set  forth  in  the  earlier  part 
of  the  play.  They  lead  us  to  suppose  that  the  dramatist 
has  not  imaged  them  clearly  in  his  mind,  or  that  he  is 
not  sufficiently  observant  of  human  nature  to  know  how  a 
given  disposition  acts  under  this  condition  and  that.  Or 
perhaps  all  is  due  to  indolence;  for  truthful  portrayals  call 
for  hard  thinking. 

4.  Whether  the  characters  develop  as  a  result  of  the  complex 
influences  set  forth  in  the  play.    The  Shylock  whom  Portia 

outwits  is  a  different  man  from  the  cunning 
f  ^      f         money-lender  who  furnished  Antonio  with 

three  thousand  ducats.  How  wonderful, 
yet  how  consistent,  is  the  change  in  Macbeth  as  he  is 
pushed  from  crime  to  crime  after  killing  Duncan!  But 
there  are  plays  where  no  change  in  character  is  noticeable, 
and  others  in  which  the  changes  are  so  sudden  or  inex- 
plicable that  they  run  counter  to  truth.  They  fail  to 
convince. 


k 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  183 

5.  Whether  the  dialogue  is  natural.  In  modern  drama  an 
attempt  is  made  to  make  characters  talk  naturally,  as 
people  do  off  the  stage.  Even  soliloquy  and 
'^asides''  are  in  disfavor  because  unnatural. 
On  the  other  hand  it  is  true,  as  someone  has  remarked, 
that  ''No  person  in  real  life  would  talk  as  Shakespeare  or 
any  other  great  dramatist  makes  them  [characters]  talk.'^ 
It  is  well  to  think  of  these  two  opposing  views  when  study- 
ing plays,  noting  whether  each  dramatist  considered  holds 
strictly  to  realism  or  allows  himself  some  degree  of  latitude. 

Here  are  a  few  questions  such  as  are  commonly  used 
in   classroom.     They   are   given  with   the 
thought  that  they  may  prove  convenient  to 
those  who  wish  to  test  in  a  general  way  the 
thoroughness  with  which  a  drama  has  been  read. 

Plot 

Where  did  the  dramatist  find  it?  Is  it  made  up  of  one  story 
or  of  several?  If  of  several,  are  all  neatly  intertwined,  or 
does  each  story  stand  out  so  independently  that  interest  is 
divided?  Is  the  story  quiet,  or  full  of  thrilling  incidents?  Does 
it  stir  the  emotions  deeply?  If  you  were  preparing  an  illustrated 
edition  of  the  play,  what  scenes  would  you  select  for  pictorial 
representation?  Does  the  play  picture  real  life  or  ideal  life? 
Is  everything  in  it  probable  or  merely  possible?  Does  the  play 
represent  a  conflict  between  two  characters,  one  good  and  the 
other  bad?  Is  it  the  story  of  a  downfall  due  to  moral  weakness? 
Does  the  action  grow  out  of  a  misunderstanding?  Are  the 
characters  represented  as  driven  inevitably  to  disaster  through 
the  workings  of  a  fate  or  destiny  beyond  their  control?  Does 
accident  or  chance  play  an  important  part? 

Is  there  much  to  be  explained  concerning  what  happened 
previous  to  the  moment  at  which  the  story  opens?  Is  the  ex- 
planatory matter  introduced  all  at  once,  or  a  little  at  a  time  as 
needed?  Is  anything  left  to  be  implied?  Can  you  determine  the 
moment  at  which  the  ''inciting  force"  becomes  active?  Locate 
the  climax.    Does  the  play  move  rapidly?    Is  the  entanglement 


184  THE   STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

preceding  the  climax  extremely  complicated?  Is  the  disentangle- 
ment following  the  climax  rapid?  Were  you  able  to  guess  in 
advance  any  parts  of  the  story?  Is  the  ending  satisfactory  from 
the  standpoint  of  justice?  Find,  if  j^ou  can,  (a)  a  scene  mainly 
explanatorj'-,  (b)  an  incident  which  does  not  occur  on  the  stage 
but  is  reported  by  a  character,  (c)  an  apparently  unnecessary 
scene,  (d)  two  scenes  which  might  be  united  or  transposed,  (e)  a 
scene  introduced  for  relief  between  tragic  moments,  (f)  a  quiet 
scene  serving  as  background  to  a  tragic  moment,  (g)  a  scene 
serving  mainly  to  bring  out  traits  of  character,  (h)  a  scene  fore- 
shadowing an  event  which  otherwise  would  cause  too  great  sur- 
prise. Justify  the  division  of  the  play  into  acts,  showing  that 
each  act  possesses  unity  and  accomplishes  a  definite  purpose. 
Try  to  condense  each  scene  into  a  sentence  or  two;  afterwards, 
try  to  condense  each  act  in  a  similar  way;  then  attempt  to  state 
the  entire  plot  in  not  more  than  two  hundred  words. 

Characters 

Many  or  few?  Noble  or  commonplace?  Many  different 
types  or  few?  Conventional,  real,  or  ideal?  An  out-and-out 
villain?  hero?  heroine?  Any  character  serving  mainly  as  fun- 
maker?  as  foil  to  some  other  character?  Any  belonging  merely 
to  the  background?  Any  unnecessary?  Which  ones  should  be 
classed  as  principal  and  which  as  subordinate?  How  many  call 
for  great  acting? 

How  are  the  characters  introduced?  Are  they  recognizable 
by  their  dress,  by  tricks  of  speech  or  manner,  or  by  strongly 
marked  individuality?  Is  character  revealed  by  what  the 
individual  does,  by  what  he  says,  or  by  the  impression  he  makes 
on  others?  Do  the  characters  always  act  consistently  and  from 
sufficient  motives?  Do  they  change  as  the  action  proceeds,  or 
are  they  the  same  when  the  curtain  falls  as  when  the  action  of 
the  play  begins?  Are  there  many  long  speeches,  or  is  the  dia- 
logue rapid?  Are  "asides"  common?  Is  there  much  soliloquy? 
Do  all  the  characters  speak  in  a  natural  way,  or  do  all  talk  alike 
and  have  a  ''splendid  manner  of  saying  things"?  What  is  the 
dramatist's  method  of  getting  his  characters  off  the  stage? 

Make  a  special  study  of  some  one  character,  picking  out  all  the 
passages  in  the  play  where  he  is  in  any  way  concerned.  Try  to 
put  yourself  in  his  place  and  imagine  his  emotions  at  each  crisis, 


THE  STUDY  OF  DRAMA  185 

his  facial  expression,  and  his  actions.  Determine,  if  you  can,  the 
following:  (a)  his  age,  (b)  his  personal  appearance,  including 
dress,  (c)  his  leading  qualities,  (d)  his  prevaihng  motive,  (e)  the 
purpose  he  serves  in  the  dramatist's  plan. 

Setting 

How  many  different  scenes  or  stage-settings  does  the  play  re- 
quire? Does  the  play  call  for  elaborate  scenery?  Pick  out  all 
passages  from  which  the  natural  background  may  be  inferred? 
Is  a  mood  of  nature,  either  harmonious  or  discordant,  any- 
where used  to  heighten  the  dramatic  effect?  Give  careful 
directions  for  the  preparation  of  the  stage  for  some  important 
scene.  Find  one  or  more  passages  determining  the  time  of  the 
play.  Find  passages  which  establish  the  duration  of  the  play. 
Find  instances  of  time  deception;  that  is,  instances  where  the 
dramatist  disguises  the  fact  that  there  are  long  intervals  be- 
tween the  incidents  represented. 

Central  Truth,  etc. 

Has  the  play  a  clearly  defined  central  truth  which  can  be 
stated  in  a  single  sentence?  If  so,  do  you  think  the  dramatist 
began  with  this  truth  and  built  his  play  around  it?  Or  did 
he  begin  with  an  attractive  plot,  and  as  he  developed  it,  did 
the  moral  assert  itself  inevitably?  Do  you  find  noble  utter- 
ances throughout  the  play — notable  passages  which  the  mem- 
ory cherishes  because  of  their  deep  meaning?  Do  you  finish 
the  play  with  the  feeling  that  you  have  been  entertained 
merely,  or  that  you  have  had  new  light  thrown  on  some  vexing 
social  problem,  or  have  been  given  higher  ideals,  or  have  been 
brought  face  to  face  with  some  solemn  truth? 

Must  the  play  be  witnessed  to  be  appreciated,  or  is  its  literary 
charm  such  that  the  play  may  be  read  as  one  reads  a  novel?  Is 
the  language  simple?  vigorous?  imaginative?  Are  there  many 
noble  passages?  Where  is  the  dramatist  greatest,  in  plot  inven- 
tion, character  creation,  in  his  command  of  language,  or  in  his 
realizing  sense  of  the  great  truths  of  life? 

Note. — See  Appendix  for  questions  on  Macbeth. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

THE   STUDY  OF  ESSAYS 

The  charm  of  the  essay  lies  in  its  simpUcity,  directness, 

and  informaUty.     The  playwright  and  the  novelist  are 

forbidden  by  the  stern  rules  of  their  art  to 

fharSJtks    ^^^^^   ^^^   ^'^^^^  ^^"^^^   ''^^^^^^   '^^^^^^   ^^^y 
create;  we  become  acquainted  with  them, 

if  at  all,  indirectly  and  through  inference.  Poetry  is,  in  a 
sense,  artificial;  for  the  poet  must  follow  the  rules  of  rhyme 
and  meter,  both  foreign  to  natural  speech.  Moreover  the 
poet  at  times  becomes  so  wrapt  in  his  subject,  so  absorbed 
in  the  single  desire  to  give  perfect  expression  to  his  thought, 
that  he  seems  almost  indifferent  to  readers,  a  characteris- 
tic which  has  led  one  able  critic  to  observe  that  though  we 
hear  an  oration,  we  seem  merely  to  overhear  the  words  of 
the  poet.  But  the  essayist,  employing  approximately  the 
informal  language  of  every-day  speech,  his  free  expression 
unhampered  by  any  story-telling  requirement  or  by  any 
rules  of  versification,  addresses  his  readers  directly  and 
often  intimately,  meeting  them  face  to  face,  as  it  were. 
The  voice,  the  facial  expression,  and  the  occasional  ges- 
ture alone  are  lacking  to  make  his  words  as  real  as  those 
of  fireside  conversation  or  table  chat. 

It  is  because  the  essay  is  thus  simple  and  direct  that  it 
is  a  most  profitable  form  to  study.  Through  such  study  is 
Profit  in  acquired   the    ability   to   get    quickly   and 

studying  thoroughly  the  substance  of  such  prose  as 

essays  makes  up  the  larger  part  of  all  that  we  read 

from  day  to  day  in  newspapers,  magazines,  and  books; 

186 


THE  STUDY  OF  ESSAYS  187 

and  through  observing  models  more  practical  than  those 
furnished  by  poetry  and  fiction  we  catch  something  of  the 
essayist's  power  of  clear  and  forceful  expression.  ^'Who- 
ever," once  declared  Johnson,  "wishes  to  attain  an  English 
style  familiar  but  not  coarse,  and  elegant  but  not  osten- 
tatious, must  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the  volumes  of 
Addison."  And  Edward  Everett,  obviously  with  this  coun- 
sel in  mind,  has  said,  "If  anyone  wishes  to  study  a  style 
which  possesses  the  characteristic  beauties  of  Addison, 
its  ease,  simplicity,  and  elegance,  with  greater  accuracy, 
point,  and  spirit,  let  him  give  his  days  and  nights  to  the 
volumes  of  Irving."  This  is  sound  advice,  though  Addison 
and  Irving  are  but  two  among  many  whose  works  may  be 
read  with  profit. 

Essays  differ  so  widely  in  their  character  that  there  can 
be  no  one  scheme  of  study  that  is  better  than 

all  others ;  but  experience  has  shown  that        w  o  s  u  y 

,       .  &X1  essay 

the  following  is  a  reasonably  good  working 

plan  applicable  in  most  cases: 

First  read  the  essay  somewhat  rapidly,  with  a  view  to  gain- 
ing a  general  idea  of  what  the  essay  is  about  and  discovering 
the  author's  purpose.    Rapid  reading  of  any 

sort  has  its  value  in  that  it  trains  the  mind  to 

purpose 
gather  information  quickly  and  make  sweep- 
ing surveys  calculated  to  discover  the  general  plan  or  drift 
of  a  work.  But  its  greatest  value,  in  the  present  instance, 
is  the  training  it  affords  in  discovering  underlying  purpose, 
a  necessary  step  to  take  at  the  threshold  of  all  literary 
study;  for  surely  the  worth  of  a  thing  cannot  be  properly 
estimated  before  its  purpose  is  apparent.  But  the  essayist's 
purpose  is  sometimes  hidden.  Titles  may  be  vague  or 
misleading.  There  is  very  little  crockery,  for  example,  in 
Lamb's  Old  China.  Nor  can  one  feel  sure  even  after  read- 
ing an  essay  hurriedly  from  beginning  to  end  that  he  sees 


190  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

will.  At  least  we  may  say  that  its  subject  matter  cannot 
be  estimated  and  appraised  as  we  inventory  an  essay  by 
Bacon  or  Macaulay. 

Third,  study  the  essay  from  the  art  standpoint,  making 
yourself  familiar  with  the  loritefs  craft.  First  there  is  the 
matter  of  structure  or  organization,  which 
is  best  studied  through  making  topical  out- 
lines and  trying  to  determine  why  this  particular  arrange- 
ment or  that  is  so  effective.  Some  essays,  it  is  true,  cannot 
be  thus  outlined.  Bacon's  idea  of  an  essay,  for  example, 
was  that  it  should  be  merely  a  collection  of  thoughts  on 
some  one  topic,  not  necessarily  arranged  in  logical  sequence 
but  clustered  like  grapes.  Many  of  Addison's  essays  are 
so  constructed  that  ingenuity  is  wasted  in  an  attempt 
to  force  them  into  any  conventional  introduction-body- 
conclusion  mould.  The  charm  of  Lamb's  essays  lies  in 
part  in  their  conversational  inconsequentiality.  There  are 
essays,  however,  that  can  be  analyzed  structurally,  and 
all  essays  of  note,  even  Lamb's,  have  a  discoverable  design 
of  some  sort,  a  method  of  growth  which  can  be  described, 
even  though  it  cannot  be  represented  in  outline. 

Having  studied  the  structure  of  the  essay  as  a  whole, 

noting  particularly  the  beginning,  the  ending,  the  order  in 

which  items  are  presented,  and  the  manner 

^  ^  f  in  which  transitions  are  made,  turn  to  the 

structure 

paragraphs  and  study  them  in  the  same  way. 

There  must  be  at  least  a  score  of  paragraph  designs  in 

common  use,  and  each  author  has  a  few  favorite  patterns. 

Finally  study  the  sentences,  noticing  the  kinds  employed, 

with  a  view  to  discovering  what  is  characteristic. 

A  second   line   of  investigation   leads  to  a  study  of 

^^    ,  words.     Is  the  language  simple?     Are  the 

The  language  .       .  r       fu  •       •  t       ^\.  • 

words  chosen  for  their  vigor,  or  for  their 

suggestive   quality?     Do   the   words   flow  smoothly,   or 


THE  STUDY  OF  ESSAYS  191 

does  the  author  seem  to  hurl  them  at  the  reader?    How 
does  the  author's  use  of  words  differ  from  your  own? 

A  third  line  of  study  concerns  all  the  many  devices  by 
which  authors  make  their  work  attractive — devices  for 
gaining  clearness,  force,  and  beauty,  in  short  . 

everything  not  already  mentioned  which 
comes  under  the  head  of  literary  craftsmanship.  The  use 
of  the  more  common  figures,  such  as  simile,  metaphor, 
and  personification,  contrast,  suspense,  and  climax,  and 
many  other  devices,  to  point  out  which  would  rob  the 
student  of  the  joy  of  discovery,  should  be  noted. 

Fourth,  study  the  author's  personality  as  revealed  in  his 
work.    No  matter  how  clever  a  craftsman  he  may  be,  it  is, 
after  all,  the  writer's  individuality  which 
gives  life  to  his  words  and  makes  them  worth  ,., 

reading.  The  kind  of  subject  that  he  selects, 
his  attitude  toward  it,  his  way  of  treating  it,  all  reveal  his 
character.  The  essay,  as  has  been  stated,  is  a  very  intimate 
form  of  expression;  we  can,  if  we  will,  approach  very  close 
to  the  mind  and  the  heart  of  Addison  and  Irving  and  Lamb 
and  Ruskin  and  others  of  their  class.  We  should  be  able, 
upon  completing  an  essay,  to  say,  '*!  am  better  acquainted 
with  the  author,  not  only  with  his  workmanship  as  a 
literary  artist,  but  with  his  temperament  and  character 
as  an  individual.  I  know  a  little  better  what  he  likes  and 
what  he  dislikes,  what  appeals  to  his  fancy,  and  how  his 
mind  works.  I  have  learned  to  note  his  manner  of  express- 
ing himself,  characteristic  ways  of  which  he  may  have 
been  wholly  or  in  part  imconscious,  yet  sufficient  to  distin- 
guish him  from  all  other  writers." 

The  purpose  the  essay  is  intended  to  serve,  . . 

what  the  author  has  to  say,  his  craftsman- 
ship as  displayed  in  his  manner  of  expression,  and  his 
personality  as  revealed  through  purpose,  subject  matter, 


192  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

and  craftsmanship :  these  are  what  we  seek  when  reading 
an  essay  in  scholarly  fashion.  Such  study  involves  find- 
ing answers  to  questions  like  those  which  follow: 

Purpose 

What  is  the  author's  purpose  in  writing — to  teach,  preach, 
reform,  entertain,  or  what?  Has  he  a  hidden  purpose  other  than 
the  apparent  one?  Has  he  a  definite  goal  toward  which  he  would 
lead  the  reader  by  the  most  direct  route,  or  is  he  but  a  saunterer, 
a  gypsy  rambler? 

Subject  Matter 

Is  the  subject  matter  heavy  with  thought?  Is  it  made  up  of 
many  facts?  Is  it  full  of  fancies?  Is  it  mere  chatter?  Whatever 
it  may  be,  is  it  worthy  of  ink  and  paper?  Does  some  one 
thought  or  fact  or  fancy  stand  out  conspicuously,  perhaps  giving 
the  essay  unity?  Can  you  give,  in  condensed  form,  the  substance 
of  the  essay,  preserving  the  sequence  adopted  by  the  author? 
Can  you  state,  in  two  or  three  sentences,  what  gives  the  essay 
value,  so  far  as  subject  matter  is  concerned?  Do  you  agree  with 
the  author  in  all  his  views? 

Craftsmanship 

Has  the  essay  a  well  defined  plan,  or  is  it  merely  a  ram- 
bling affair,  inconsequential?  If  the  former,  can  you  display 
it  by  means  of  a  topical  outline;  if  the  latter,  can  you  define 
it  in  two  or  three  terse  sentences?  Does  the  logical  struc- 
ture, or  the  lack  of  it,  contribute  to  the  ease  and  pleasure  of 
reading?  What  have  you  noted  in  regard  to  the  author's  manner 
of  building  and  joining  paragraphs?  Is  he  given  to  making  long 
sentences?  short?  simple?  involved?  dramatic?  periodic?  bal- 
anced? Is  he  careful  to  employ  transitional  phrases,  or  inclined 
to  omit  connectives?  Are  his  sentences  smooth-flowing?  clear 
cut  and  precise?  What  have  you  noted  in  regard  to  the  words 
employed?  Does  the  vocabulary  cover  a  wide  range?  Does  it 
seem  bookish?  Is  he  fond  of  unusual  words?  words  suggesting 
color  and  sound?  Is  he  attracted  by  the  melody  of  words? 
Does  he  prefer  terms  conveying  precise  meanings?  Are  adjec- 
tives plentiful  or  few?  Does  he  enjoy  playing  with  language,  or 
does  he  look  upon  it  merely  as  a  practical  tool? 


THE  STUDY  OF  ESSAYS  193 

Has  the  author  many  dramatic  devices  for  gaining  or  holding 
attention?  Does  he  employ  many  figures?  Is  he  fond  of  climax 
and  contrast?  Does  he  indulge  in  humor,  irony,  paradox?  Has 
he  epigrammatic  power?  Does  he  try  to  surprise  the  reader? 
tantalize  him?  dazzle  him?  Is  he  too  fond  of  displaying  his  craft, 
or  does  he  prefer  plain  statement?  Is  he  most  intent  on  convey- 
ing his  thought  without  loss,  or  upon  giving  his  thought  artistic 
expression?  Have  you  learned  anything,  through  studying  the 
essay,  in  regard  to  literary  craft — anything  that  you  can  employ 
in  your  own  writing? 

The  Author's  Personality 

Judging  solely  by  what  the  essay  reveals,  what  kind  of  man 
is  the  author?  Is  he  a  deep  thinker?  Is  he  a  castle  builder? 
Has  he  strong  likes  and  dislikes?  What  are  his  prevailing  moods? 
"Would  he  make  a  good  neighbor?  an  agreeable  companion?  Do 
you  envy  him?  Has  he  traits  which  you  do  not  admire?  Is  he 
a  reading  man?  a  man  of  affairs?  Is  the  charm  of  the  essay  in 
the  thought  it  contains,  in  the  manner  in  which  the  thought  is 
expressed,  in  the  author's  personality,  or  in  all  three? 

Note. — See  Appendix  for  questions  on  the  De  Caoerley  papers  and 
Macaulay's  Life  of  Samuel  Johnson. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY 

Poetry,  which  Coleridge  has  called  ''the  blossom  and 
fragrance  of  all  human  knowledge,  human  thought,  human 

passions,  emotions,  language,''  is,  notwith- 
^  ^  standing  the  high  place  it  holds  in  the  realm 

of  letters,  least  read  today  of  all  forms  of 
literature.  For  proof  of  this  statement  we  need  not  turn 
to  the  testimony  of  booksellers  and  librarians;  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  note  that  popular  magazines,  which  survive  only 
through  furnishing  what  the  public  is  willing  to  buy,  print 
almost  no  verse.  Had  we  living  poets  of  such  rare  ex- 
cellence as  Scott,  Byron,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Shelley, 
and  Keats,  w^hose  works  appeared  in  the  earlier  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  no  doubt  they  would  command 
readers.  But  these  are  lacking.  We  have  no  Tennyson, 
no  Browning.  None  have  arisen  to  fill  the  places  left 
vacant  by  Br5^ant,  Poe,  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Emerson, 
Lowell,  and  Holmes.  Our  successful  authors  are  writers 
of  fiction,  or  busy  in  the  fields  of  history,  science,  and 
allied  subjects.  More  and  more  the  demand  is  for  books 
that  may  be  read  for  practical  purposes,  or  for  mere  enter- 
tainment and  recreation  such  as  are  provided  by  novels 
and  short  stories. 

The  present  dearth  of  great  poets  explains  but  in  part, 
however,  why  poetry-reading  is  so  generally  neglected.  In 
Poetry  some   measure,   no   doubt,   the   neglect   is 

difficult  traceable  to  the  fact  that  to  read  poetry  as 

to  read  j^  should  be  read  takes  more  time  and  a 

greater  mental  effort  than  most  are  willing  to  bestow. 

194 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  195 

How  easily,  by  way  of  contrast,  does  the  playgoer  receive 
his  pleasure!  The  actors  who  interpret  with  voice  and 
gesture  the  dramatist's  every  word  do  nearly  all  the  real 
w^ork  required,  and  much  of  the  little  that  remains  is 
attended  to  by  the  scene-painter.  Playgoing  is,  or  can 
be  made,  as  lazy  a  form  of  recreation  as  attending  a  ball 
game.  Novel  reading  is  almost  as  easy,  so  clever  have  our 
story  writers  become  in  the  questionable  art  of  so  construct- 
ing narratives  that  they  cause  the  reader  no  fatigue  and 
next  to  no  intellectual  exertion. 

Very  different  is  the  case  with  poetry-reading.  It  takes 
two  to  make  a  poem — a  poet  and  a  trained,  appreciative 
reader.     Or,  expressing  the  idea  in  another 

way,  the  poet's  words  do  not  become  a  poem      ^^"^"^S 

necessary 
to  me  until  I  have  made  them  mine,  and 

they  do  not  become  mine  until  I  have  done  that  which 
they  invite  me  to  do:  the  thinking,  the  imagining,  the 
feeling.  Even  masters  like  Shakespeare  and  Milton, 
whose  genius  seems  heaven-sent,  passed  through  an 
apprenticeship  stage.  In  much  the  same  manner  is 
it  necessary  that  those  who  would  learn  to  read  poetry 
with  full  appreciation  submit  patiently  to  disciplinary 
training. 

The  best  way,  perhaps,  to  gain  a  clear  notion  of  how 
poetry  should  be  read  will  be  to  review  cer- 
tain of  its  characteristics,  taking  them  up    ^.  ^^^  ®^^f ' 
,         ,  T        ,         ,  tics  of  poetry 

m  somewhat  the  same  order  that  the  young 

reader  is  likely  to  be  impressed  by  them. 

1.   The  poet  often  employs  unusual  sentence-structure, 
A  predicate  sometimes  precedes  its  subject,    Unusual 
modifiers  appear  out  of  their  natural  places,    sentence- 
and  relatives  are  widely  separated  from  their    structure 
antecedents.    Note,  for  example,  the  opening  lines  of  one 
of  Drummond's  sonnets: 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY 

Poetry,  which  Coleridge  has  called  ''the  blossom  and 
fragrance  of  all  human  knowledge,  human  thought,  human 

passions,  emotions,  language,"  is,  notwith- 
read  ^  ^    ^       standing  the  high  place  it  holds  in  the  realm 

of  letters,  least  read  today  of  all  forms  of 
literature.  For  proof  of  this  statement  we  need  not  turn 
to  the  testimony  of  booksellers  and  librarians;  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  note  that  popular  magazines,  which  survive  only 
through  furnishing  what  the  public  is  willing  to  buy,  print 
almost  no  verse.  Had  we  living  poets  of  such  rare  ex- 
cellence as  Scott,  Byron,  Wordsworth,  Coleridge,  Shelley, 
and  Keats,  whose  works  appeared  in  the  earlier  half  of  the 
nineteenth  century,  no  doubt  they  would  command 
readers.  But  these  are  lacking.  We  have  no  Tennyson, 
no  Browning.  None  have  arisen  to  fill  the  places  left 
vacant  by  Bvyaiit,  Poe,  Longfellow,  Whittier,  Emerson, 
Lowell,  and  Holmes.  Our  successful  authors  are  writers 
of  fiction,  or  busy  in  the  fields  of  history,  science,  and 
allied  subjects.  More  and  more  the  demand  is  for  books 
that  may  be  read  for  practical  purposes,  or  for  mere  enter- 
tainment and  recreation  such  as  are  provided  by  novels 
and  short  stories. 

The  present  dearth  of  great  poets  explains  but  in  part, 
however,  why  poetry-reading  is  so  generally  neglected.  In 
Poetry  some   measure,    no   doubt,    the   neglect   is 

difficult  traceable  to  the  fact  that  to  read  poetry  as 

to  read  j^  should  be  read  takes  more  time  and  a 

greater  mental  effort  than  most  are  willing  to  bestow. 

194 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  195 

How  easily,  by  way  of  contrast,  does  the  playgoer  receive 
his  pleasure!  The  actors  who  interpret  with  voice  and 
gesture  the  dramatist's  every  word  do  nearly  all  the  real 
work  required,  and  much  of  the  little  that  remains  is 
attended  to  by  the  scene-painter.  Playgoing  is,  or  can 
be  made,  as  lazy  a  form  of  recreation  as  attending  a  ball 
game.  Novel  reading  is  almost  as  easy,  so  clever  have  our 
story  writers  become  in  the  questionable  art  of  so  construct- 
ing narratives  that  they  cause  the  reader  no  fatigue  and 
next  to  no  intellectual  exertion. 

Very  different  is  the  case  with  poetry-reading.    It  takes 
two  to  make  a  poem — a  poet  and  a  trained,  appreciative 
reader.     Or,  expressing  the  idea  in  another 
way,  the  poet's  words  do  not  become  a  poem 
to  me  until  I  have  made  them  mine,  and 
they  do  not  become  mine  until  I  have  done  that  which 
they  invite  me  to  do:  the  thinking,  the  imagining,  the 
feeling.     Even    masters   like   Shakespeare  and   Milton, 
whose    genius    seems    heaven-sent,    passed    through    an 
apprenticeship    stage.      In    much   the   same   manner   is 
it  necessary  that  those  who  would  learn  to  read  poetry 
with  full  appreciation  submit  patiently  to  disciplinary 
training. 

The  best  way,  perhaps,  to  gain  a  clear  notion  of  how 
poetry  should  be  read  will  be  to  review  cer- 
tain of  its  characteristics,  taking  them  up    ..      ,         " 
in  somewhat  the  same  order  that  the  young 
reader  is  likely  to  be  impressed  by  them. 

1.   The  poet  often  employs  unusual  sentence-structure. 
A  predicate  sometimes  precedes  its  subject,    Unusual 
modifiers  appear  out  of  their  natural  places,    sentence- 
and  relatives  are  widely  separated  from  their    structure 
antecedents.    Note,  for  example,  the  opening  lines  of  one 
of  Drummond's  sonnets: 


196  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

Of  this  fair  volume  which  we  World  do  name 
If  we  the  sheets  and  leaves  could  turn  with  care, 
Of  Him  who  it  corrects,  and  did  it  frame, 
We  clear  might  read  the  art  and  wisdom  rare 

Although  this  is  not  extremely  difficult  to  understand,  yet 
the  meaning  is  somewhat  clearer  when  the  sentence  is 
changed  to  a  natural  prose  sequence  thus :  If  we  could  turn 
with  care  the  sheets  and  leaves  of  this  fair  volume  which  we  do 
call  World,  we  might  read  clear  the  rare  art  and  wisdom  of 
Him  who  corrects  it  and  did  frame  it.  But  frequently  the 
poet's  practice  of  twisting  sentences  about  is  a  source  of 
no  little  trouble.  The  words  do  not  surrender  their  mean- 
ing without  a  siege  on  the  part  of  the  reader,  who  prefers 
to  hurry  on  as  he  may  when  reading  ordinary  prose.  In 
his  impatience  he  may  feel  that  the  poet  is  purposely 
obscure,  not  reahzing  that  unusual  sentence  arrangement 
is  oftentimes  necessary  for  rhyme  and  meter,  for  melody, 
variety,  and  emphasis.  With  practice,  however,  the  dif- 
ficulty of  transposing  grows  less  and  less,  and  increasing 
pleasure  is  gained  through  noting  how,  by  this  slight 
change  and  that,  a  passage  has  been  given  strength  and 
beauty. 

2.  The  poeVs  vocabulary  contains  unusual  words,  and  also 
familiar  words  employed  in  unusual  senses.  This  is  not 
_  strange.     Through  constant  effort  to  find 

terms  that  express  nice  shades  of  thought  or 
feeling  and  at  the  same  time  provide  a  desired  melody, 
poets  not  only  acquire  large  vocabularies  but  become 
acquainted  with  the  less  familiar  meanings  of  common 
words.  It  is  estimated  that  Wordsworth,  though  he  be- 
lieved that  the  language  of  poetry  should  be  that  of  every- 
day life,  employed  about  20,000  distinct  meanings,  a  very 
large  number  compared  with  the  vocabulary  of  the  average 
individual.    Illustrations  of  a  characteristic  so  common  are 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  197 

hardly  necessary,  yet  let  us  note  a  few  examples.  Milton 
speaks  of  'Hhe  rathe  primrose,"  where  the  prose  writer 
would  say  the  early  primrose;  and  of  "Meadows  trim 
with  daisies  pied,"  employing  pied  rather  than  the  more 
familiar  variegated,  which  contained  too  many  syllables  and 
did  not  supply  the  melody  that  his  line  needed.  A  pathetic 
little  lullaby  of  long  ago  begins  ''Come,  little  babe,  come 
silly  soul."  Silly  seems  a  highly  inappropriate  term  till  we 
learn  that  one  of  its  earlier  meanings  is  innocent.  The  poet 
chose  it,  we  may  imagine,  not  alone  because  it  contained 
the  desired  number  of  syllables,  but  because  his  ear  told 
him  that  the  soft  sound  of  I  was  appropriate  for  lullaby 
music.  In  the  Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner,  occurs  the  ex- 
pression ''silly  buckets."  Here,  plainly,  there  is  no  thought 
of  innocence  but  rather  of  uselessness.  The  entire  crew, 
save  one  poor  soul,  are  dead;  how  useless  are  the  buckets! 
Although  as  a  rule  it  requires  but  a  moment's  thought  to 
see  what  each  word  means,  yet  there  are  cases  not  a  few 
where  it  is  necessary  to  linger  and  still  linger,  considering 
with  great  care  the  appropriateness  of  all  possible  mean- 
ings, lest  the  right  significance  of  a  term  be  lost. 

3.  The  poet  exercises  great  economy,  expressing  much  in 
a  feiu  words.  A  simple  illustration  of  this  is  the  elliptical 
sentence,  or  one  that  is  shortened  by  the 
omission  of  words.  The  pronoun  he  is  needed 
to  make  clear  the  line  Who  steals  my  purse  steals  trash,  and 
like  must  be  supplied  twice  in  She  moves  a  goddess,  and 
she  looks  a  queen.  Economy  is  strikingly  shown  in  the 
wisdom  with  which,  oftentimes,  all  save  bare  essentials  are 
excluded.    Note  the  abrupt  beginning  of  Coleridge's  Rime: 

It  is  an  ancient  Mariner, 
And  he  stoppeth  one  of  three. 
"  By  thy  long  gray  beard  and  glittering  eye, 
Now  wherefore  stopp'st  thou  me? 


198  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

"  The  Bridegroom's  doors  are  opened  wide, 
And  I  am  next  of  kin; 
The  guests  are  met,  the  feast  is  set; 
May'st  hear  the  merry  din." 

Stoppeth  one  of  three?  Who  are  they?  A  novelist  might 
explain  in  detail,  but  the  poet's  instinct  bids  him  let  the 
reader  gather,  from  the  dialogue  that  follows,  the  little  it 
is  necessary  to  know.  And  how  brief  is  his  description  of 
the  central  figure :  ancient  Mariner,  long  gray  heard,  glitter- 
ing eye;  a  little  later,  skinny  hand;  and  finally,  long,  lank, 
brown.  These  twelve  words  are  all  that  the  poem  provides 
and  ten  of  these  come  indirectly,  through  the  Hps  of  the 
Wedding  Guest.  Yet  they  suffice;  the  portrait  is  essen- 
tially complete.  The  Rime,  it  is  true,  is  an  imitation  of  the 
mediseval  ballad,  a  form  of  story-telling  poetry  in  which 
little  save  bare  narrative  is  given;  yet  this  same  power  to 
select  merely  the  essentials  is  quite  as  marked  in  the  follow- 
ing bit  of  description  from  another  of  Coleridge's  poems: 

Beneath  yon  birch  with  silver  bark 
And  boughs  so  pendulous  and  fair, 

The  brook  falls  scattered  down  the  rock, 
And  all  is  mossy  there. 

Would  twenty  additional  items  make  the  picture  clearer? 

And  since  it  is  characteristic  of  the  poet  to  furnish  only 

that  which  is  needed,  does  it  not  follow  that  poetry  must  be 

read  with  a  slowness  and  an  attentiveness  not  often  called 

for  by  prose,  lest  something  essential  be  overlooked? 

Frequently  economy  is  exercised  through  a  wise  use 

of  descriptive  adjectives,  or  image-making 

•th  t  epithets,    as   in   the   following   lines   from 

Goldsmith's  Deserted  Village: 

How  often  have  I  paused  on  every  charm, 
The  sheltered  cot,  the  cultivated  farm, 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  199 

The  never-failing  brook,  the  busy  mill, 
The  decent  church  that  topt  the  neighboring  hill. 
The  hawthorn  bush,  with  seats  beneath  the  shade, 
For  talking  age  and  whispering  lovers  made! 

The  magical  suggestive  or  connotative  power  in  words 

like  the  seven  italicized  cannot  be  fully  appreciated  till 

one  has  tried  to  replace  each  with  another  that  will  bring 

to  mind  a  picture  equally  complete  and  appropriate. 

Many  a  poem  is  but  a  ''collection  of  hints."     ''Take 

these,"  the  poet  seems  to  say;  "let  your  imagination  play 

about  them.    They  are  sufficient  to  transmit 

all  that  I  would  have  them,  if  you  will  but         ,.    ^  ^  ^  , 
,      „  ,  ,  ,  ,         „    reading  slowly 

dwell  upon  them   and  not   hurry  along." 

But  the  young  reader  too  often  hurries  along  none  the 

less,  so  powerful  is  the  habit  of  making  haste,  acquired 

through    years    of    fiction-skimming.      Consequently    he 

loses,  often  unconsciously,  much  that  the  poet  has  offered. 

4.  Poetry  abounds  in  pictures.    It  arouses  thought  and 

emotion  by  appealing,  through  imagination,  to  the  senses. 

"  Listen,  feel,  taste,  smell,  but  above  all,  open 

your  eyes  and  see,"  the  words  seem  to  say  to      °^  ^^ 
,  ,  sensuous 

the  imagmation.    There  are  pictures  every- 
where, some  half-hidden  in  a  single  cunning  word,  others 
given  with  minute  detail.    They  flash  upon  us,  or  they  slowly 
dawn.    The  poet  loves  them;  they  are  the  language  of  his 
thought.     He  will  not  say  about  seven-forty-five,  but 

Nigh  upon  that  hour 
When  the  lone  hern  forgets  his  melancholy. 
Lets  down  his  other  leg,  and  stretching  dreams 
Of  goodly  supper  in  the  distant  pool. 

He  will  not  say  "Along  toward  night  they  came  to  a  woods 
with  a  pond  in  the  midst  of  it,"  but — 

So  till  the  dusk  that  followed  evensong 
Rode  on  the  two,  reviler  and  reviled; 


200  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

Then  after  one  long  slope  was  mounted,  saw, 

Bowl-shaped,  thro'  tops  of  many  thousand  pines 

A  gloomy-gladed  hollow  slowly  sink 

To  westward — in  the  depths  whereof  a  mere, 

Round  as  the  red  eye  of  an  eagle-owl, 

Under  the  half-dead  sunset  glared. 

Ability  to  read  poetry  is  in  large  measure  merely  ability  to 
look  at  the  words  which  blacken  the  white  page  and  see 
rise  through  them  the  pictures  born  in  the  poet's  brain. 

5.  Poetry  abounds  in  figures  of  speech.    It  is  a  mistake 
to  think  of  simile,  metaphor,  personification,  hyperbole, 
and  the  other  figures  as  mere  ornaments 
^^    -  and  frills.    They  impart  beauty  and  richness, 

it  is  true,  beyond  what  we  expect  in  common 
prose.  But  they  serve  very  practical  ends,  marvellously 
aiding  the  poet  to  convey  quickly  and  perfectly,  usually 
through  the  medium  of  pictures,  his  sensations  and  emo- 
tions. What  a  wonderfully  vivid  picture  is  that  which 
Shakespeare  gives  us  of  the  murdered  king,  and  how  much 
of  its  vividness  is  due  to  figurative  language : 

Here  lay  Duncan, 
His  silver  skin  laced  with  his  golden  blood; 
And  his  gash'd  stabs  look'd  Uke  a  breach  in  nature 
For  ruin's  wasteful  entrance. 

This  is  far  more  than  a  vivid  scene;  the  lines  convey — and 
how  swiftly — the  awfulness  of  the  crime.  Later  in  the 
play,  Macbeth's  first  great  crime  having  led  to  a  second, 
a  third,  and  many  more,  till  the  entire  kingdom  has  turned 
against  its  lord,  occurs  this  brief  yet  wonderfully  expres- 
sive metaphor: 

Now  does  he  feel 
His  secret  murders  siicking  on  his  hands. 

All  of  Shakespeare's  plays  are  crowded  with  such  figures, 
adding  beauty  and  clearness,  furnishing  thousands  of 
supplementary  pictures,  yet  contributing  an  element  of 


THE   STUDY  OF  POETRY  201 

magical  swiftness.  Sometimes  we  find  in  poetry  a  sugges- 
tion of  what  everyone  has  experienced,  the  great  difficulty 
of  conveying  an  impression  of  our  joys  and  sorrows,  which 
prompts  us  to  exclaim,  "I  cannot  express  it;  the  words 
will  not  come!"  Shelley,  struggling  to  make  us  feel  the 
beauty  of  the  skylark's  song,  finally  abandons  direct 
statement  and  resorts  to  simile  after  simile. 

What  thou  art  we  know  not; 

What  is  most  like  thee? 
From  rainbow  clouds  there  flow  not 

Drops  so  bright  to  see 
As  from  thy  presence  showers  a  rain  of  melody; — 

Like  a  poet  hidden 

In  the  hght  of  thought, 
Singing  hymns  unbidden. 
Till  the  world  is  wrought 
To  sympathy  with  hopes  and  fears  it  heeded  not: 

Like  a  high-born  maiden 

In  a  palace  tower, 
Soothing  her  love-laden 

Soul  in  secret  hour 
With  music  sweet  as  love,  which  overflows  her  bower: 

Like  a  glow-worm  golden 

In  a  dell  of  dew, 
Scattering  unbeholden 

Its  aerial  hue 
Among  the  flowers  and  grass,  which  screen  it  from  the  view: 

Like  a  rose  embower'd 

In  its  own  green  leaves. 
By  warm  winds  deflower'd. 

Till  the  scent  it  gives 
Makes  faint  with  too  much  sweet  these  heavy-winged  thieves: 

Sound  of  vernal  showers 

On  the  twinkling  grass, 
Rain-awaken'd  flowers, 
All  that  ever  was 
Joyous,  and  clear,  and  fresh,  thy  music  doth  surpass. 


202  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

But  figurative  language,  though  its  mission  is  to  con- 
tribute clearness,  force,  and  beauty,  enabling  the  poet  to 
Figures  express   much   in   little   and   move   swiftly 

sometimes  along,  sometimes  mystifies  young  readers, 
mystifying  Their  minds  are  not  quick  enough  to  see  in- 
stantly the  force  of  a  swift  metaphor,  nor  sensitive  enough 
to  catch  the  beauty  of  appropriate  simile.  They  endeavor 
to  read  verse  as  rapidly  as  they  read  prose — try  to  keep  up 
with  the  poet,  and  let  so  much  slip  by  that  often  they  miss 
the  very  best  that  a  poem  contains.  They  have  not  formed 
the  habit  of  lingering  over  beauty-haunted  lines,  of  trying 
to  visualize  or  real-ize  each  simile  picture,  of  yielding  to  the 
invitation  presented  by  many  a  word  to  let  the  imagination 
wander  down  this  attractive  by-path  and  that. 

6.  In  poetry  the  thought  is  sometimes  hidden.  It  is  veiled, 
revealed  but  in  dim  twilight  as  if  too  solemnly  beautiful 

for  midday  brightness.     Or  the  poet  may 
,       ,  feel  that  a  little  obscurity,  a  little  blinding 

of  the  reader,  a  bit  of  bewildering  labyrinth, 
heightens  the  final  joy  of  discovery.  ''I  contain  a  great 
truth,"  one  poem  seems  to  say;  ''look  closely,  if  you  would 
find  me.''  ^'I  too  contain  a  great  and  beautiful  thought," 
says  a  second;  ''but  it  is  veiled,  not  to  be  boldly  expressed. 
Read  me — let  my  lines  haunt  you  for  a  day,  a  week,  a  year, 
and  little  by  little  the  beauty  of  the  thought  will  reveal  it- 
self."   Note  this  little  poem  by  Tennyson: 

THE  FLOWER 

Once  in  a  golden  hour 

I  cast  to  earth  a  seed. 
Up  there  came  a  flower, 

The  people  said  a  weed. 

To  and  fro  they  went 

Thro'  my  garden-bower. 
And  muttered  discontent, 

Cursed  me  and  my  flower. 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  203 

Then  it  grew  so  tall 

It  wore  a  crown  of  light, 
But  thieves  from  o'er  the  wall 

Stole  the  seed  bj^  night; 

Sow'd  it  far  and  wide 

By  every  town  and  tower, 
Till  all  the  people  cried, 

'Splendid  is  the  flower/ 

Read  my  Httle  fable; 

He  that  runs  may  read. 
Most  can  raise  the  flowers  now, 

For  all  have  got  the  seed. 

And  some  are  pretty  enough, 

And  some  are  poor  indeed; 
And  now  again  the  people 

Call  it  but  a  weed. 

The  truth  which  lies  hidden  in  this  little  fable  is  not  diflfi- 
cult  to  discover,  though  its  applications  are  many.  But 
how  much  more  keenly  it  is  felt  when  given  this  concrete, 
storified  setting  than  it  would  be  were  it  baldly  stated  in 
abstract  prose.  Not  so  easily  discoverable  is  the  thought 
in  the  following  sonnet  by  Wordsworth : 

Methought  I  saw  the  footsteps  of  a  throne 

Which  mists  and  vapours  from  mine  eyes  did  shroud— 

Nor  view  of  who  might  sit  thereon  allowed; 

But  all  the  steps  and  ground  about  were  strown 

With  sights  the  ruefullest  that  flesh  and  bone 

Ever  put  on;  a  miserable  crowd. 

Sick,  hale,  old,  young,  who  cried  before  that  cloud, 

"Thou  art  our  king,  0  Death!  to  thee  we  groan." 

Those  steps  I  clomb;  the  mists  before  me  gave 

Smooth  way;  and  I  beheld  the  face  of  one 

Sleeping  alone  within  a  mossy  cave. 

With  her  face  up  to  heaven;  that  seemed  to  have 

Pleasing  remembrance  of  a  thought  foregone; 

A  lovely  Beauty  in  a  summer  grave! 


k 


204  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

7.  Poetry  is  song.    Poe  calls  it  'Hhe  rhythmical  creation 
of  beauty."    ''Sing  us,"  the  poet's  words  seem  to  say.    "I 

cannot  sing,"  the  gentle  reader  may  reply. 

''Then  you  can  never  fully  possess  us,"  the 

words  rejoin;  "for  our  beauty  is  hidden  in 
melody,  and  those  who  cannot  sing  may  never  reach  it!" 
It  is  indeed  a  misfortune  that  the  poet  cannot  go  with  his 
verses,  singing  them  as  tradition  asserts  that  the  blind 
Homer  sang  of  Helen  of  Troy  and  the  wanderings  of 
Ulysses,  and  as  the  minstrels  of  mediseval  Europe  sang  of 
Beowulf  and  Roland  and  King  Arthur.  The  time  may 
come  when  phonographs  will  be  furnished  with  records 
enabhng  us  to  listen  to  the  voices  of  poets,  or  of  readers  so 
skilled  that  they  can  reveal  the  rhythmical  beauty  of  our 
noblest  poems.  But  even  though  lacking  these  aids,  the 
earnest  student,  no  matter  how  deficient  in  ear  and  voice 
he  may  judge  himself,  need  not  despair;  for  a  measure  of 
success  will  come  through  patient  endeavor.  It  is  simply  a 
matter  of  reading,  reading,  and  rereading,  aloud  when 
possible,  each  time  striving  to  bring  out  a  little  more  of  the 
melody — experimenting  as  you  would  were  you  learning 
to  play  an  instrumental  selection  containing  none  of  the 
customary  marks  which  show  where  pedals  should  be  used, 
where  the  time  should  be  quickened,  where  retarded,  the 
crescendos  and  diminuendos  without  which  the  rarest 
music  becomes  expressionless. 

In  view  of  these  characteristics,  the  study 

of  almost  any  poem  may  proceed  along  the 
following  lines: 

1.  Read    the    entire    poem    slowly,    but    not    critically. 
Gaining  a  The  purpose  of  this  first  reading  is  merely 

general  to    gain    a    general    impression    of    what 

impression        the   poem    is    about.     It    is    like   ascend- 
ing an  eminence  to  discover  the  general   course  of  a 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  205 

stream  and  learn  toward  what  larger  body  its  waters 
are  hastening. 

2.  Read  a  second  timej  more  slowly,  with  a  view  to  making 
clear  whatever  was  not  fully  understood  in  the  first  superficial 
reading.   This  may  call  for  the  reconstruction 

of  a  few  twisted  sentences;  the  supplying  of  .  .^  , 
words  omitted  from  elliptical  sentences;  a 
close  study  of  individual  words  that  are  strange  or  appear 
to  hold  meanings  other  than  the  ordinary  ones;  the  con- 
sulting of  various  handbooks  to  discover  the  meaning  of 
allusions  not  understood.  Some  poems  call  for  very  little 
study  of  this  kind;  the  reader  can  say,  as  soon  as  he  has  run 
through  them  for  the  first  time,  ''AH  is  clear;  I  understand 
each  word,  each  sentence."  But  much  of  our  best  poetry, 
particularly  that  which  takes  us  back  a  few  centuries,  is 
exceedingly  difficult,  so  difficult  that  we  can  hardly  do 
without  the  notes  found  in  connection  with  editions  spe- 
cially prepared  for  use  in  school. 

3.  Read  a  third  time,  still  more  slowly  and  with  all  the 
senses  alert,  trying  to  visualize  and  make  real  all  that  the 
poem  pictures.    This  calls  into  play  the  im- 
agination,  and  for  those  whose  imagination 

is  not  strong,  or  who  have  had  little  training  in  this  partic- 
ular kind  of  exercise,  it  is  difficult  work.  It  involves 
closing  the  eyes  and  asking  such  questions  as  these:  Am  I 
seeing  in  clear  detail,  as  if  I  were  an  eye  witness,  what  is 
happening — this  tournament,  this  trial  scene,  this  merry 
frolic?  The  hero,  central  figure  in  the  action, — were  I  an 
artist,  could  I  paint  him  to  the  author's  satisfaction? 
Do  I  see  the  lonely  forest,  the  village  green,  the  crowded 
city  street,  or  whatever  it  may  be  that  the  lines  before  me 
strive  to  picture? 

Such  sjTxipathetic  exercise  of  the  imagination  means  far 
more  than  merely  drifting  down  the  main  broad  stream  of 


206  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

a  poem;  it  involves -tarrying  by  this  little  island  and  that, 
pointing  into  quiet  coves,  and  exploring  whatever  tribu- 
taries challenge  our  fancy.    By  islands  and 
Imagination  j    ^    u   x     •  j. 

coves  and  tributaries  are  meant  memory- 
ncccssairy  ,  i..  .-, 

haunted,  picture-bringing  epithets;  meta- 
phors at  first  glance  hard  and  practical  yet  revealing,  when 
dwelt  upon,  wonderful  beauty;  similes  that  startle  and 
charm  through  suggesting  unsuspected  similarities  between 
things  remote  from  one  another; — all  figurative  expressions 
which  for  the  moment  bear  us  far  away  as  we  are  some- 
times transported  by  the  glimpse  of  a  face  in  the  crowd, 
the  sound  of  a  voice,  or  even  by  a  half-forgotten  fragrance. 
And  since  the  senses  are  but  five  pathways  leading  to  the 
emotions,  this  third  reading  should  be  an  emotional  one 
in  which  we  strive  to  share  with  the  poet  his  feelings  as  he 
laj'^s  them  bare  directly  or  through  the  men  and  women  his 
art  has  created.  We  must  lose,  for  the  time  being,  our  own 
identity  and  become  now  Marmion,  now  Queen  Guinevere, 
now  Shylock,  now  the  poet  himself,  sympathetically 
identifying  ourselves  with  each,  even  to  a  greater  degree 
than  the  actor  identifies  himself  with  the  character  whom 
he  impersonates. 

4.  Ponder  the  thought.  The  purpose  of  many  a  short 
poem  is  solely  to  set  forth  in  attractive  form  some  great 
truth.  It  is  the  nucleus,  the  one  thing  essen- 
th^^th  ^  ht  ^^^^'  often  clearly  expressed  in  an  unforgetta- 
ble line,  more  often  veiled  or  but  hinted  at. 
Sometimes  w^e  find  not  one,  but  a  community  of  related 
truths;  and  in  a  long  poem  there  may  be,  in  addition  to 
some  one  central  truth,  many  others  not  closely  related — 
lines  of  wisdom  standing  boldly  forth,  kernels  of  thought 
hidden  away  in  pregnant  words,  such  as  we  should  expect 
of  the  poet  no  matter  what  his  theme  may  be,  for  poets  are 
truth-reveal ers.    It  is  the  mission  of  poetry  to  make  men 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  207 

think.    To  find  the  thought,  then,  and  having  found,  to 
ponder  it,  is  an  important  step  in  the  study  of  all  poetry. 

5.  Study  the  poet^s  art.    We  may  not  believe,  with  Pro- 
fessor Scott,  that  an  essential  difference  between  prose 
and  poetry  is  that  the  former  is  "expres- 
sion for   communication's  sake,"   the   lat-         ^P^^^ 

.  poet  s  art 

ter  "communication  for  expression  s  sake," 
yet  we  cannot  but  feel  that  the  charm  of  poetry  is 
largely  due  to  skilful  expression;  and  there  is  pleas- 
ure and  profit  in  studying  a  poem  with  a  view  to  dis- 
covering by  what  art-devices  this  passage  and  that  is 
made  attractive.  This  is  a  line  of  study  more  appro- 
priate for  older  readers,  it  is  true,  yet  there  are  many 
little  things  which  young  readers  may  train  themselves 
to  observe.  They  can  master  the  mechanics  of  the  simpler 
forms  of  versification  and  accustom  themselves  to  note 
the  skill  with  which  poets  abide  by  set  rules,  and  how  by 
departing  now  and  then  from  these  rules  they  enhance 
the  beauty  of  their  lines.  They  can  study  poem-structure, 
often  an  element  of  charm,  just  as  they  study  essay- 
structure.  They  can  note  the  use  of  contrast,  suspense, 
and  other  devices  common  in  all  forms  of  literature.  They 
can  study  the  poet's  use  of  figurative  language.  They 
can  train  themselves  to  pick  out  and  admire  well  chosen 
words  and  phrases  happily  turned.  Yet  it  is  an  endless 
quest,  this  search  for  secret  sources  of  the  poet's  power, 
to  be  pursued  year  after  year  as  one  journeys  deeper  and 
deeper  into  the  realm  of  poesy,  and  because  endless,  most 
attractive.  Before  the  reader  always  lies  the  possible  joy 
of  some  fresh  discovery. 

6.  Finally,  read  the  poem  aloud,  many  times,  earnestly  en- 
deavoring to  give  each  line  its  intended  melody,  p  ,.  ,  . 
at  the  same  time  striving  to  bring  out  the 

shades  of  thought  and  feeling.    This  exercise  is  very  sure  to 


208  THE  STUDY   OF  LITERATURE 

have  a  double  effect.  In  the  first  place,  it  lays  bare  un- 
expected beauties — the  fine  adjustment  of  rhythm  to 
thought  and  feeling,  the  subtlety  of  suggestion  oftentimes 
conveyed  by  the  mere  sound  of  words,  and  many  a  grace 
all  unperceived  till  brought  out  by  the  voice.  In  the  second 
place,  it  would  be  strange  if  this  attempt  to  interpret  orally 
did  not  convince  the  reader  that,  notwithstanding  faithful 
study,  many  things  have  been  overlooked;  there  are  still 
parts  imperfectly  understood,  parts  not  clearly  visualized 
and  emotionally  felt. 

Poetry  assumes  so  many  forms  that  it  is  difficult,  if 

not  impossible,  to  invent  a  set  of  questions  universally 

appropriate.    Many  of  the  questions  found 

at  the  close  of  the  chapters  on  fiction,  drama, 
questions  i  i  ,  n 

and  the  essay  apply  reasonably  well  to  poems 

that  are  cast  in  story-telling,  dramatic,  or  essay  form. 

Here  are  a  few  additional  ones: 

First  Impressions,  etc. 

What  kind  of  poetry — dramatic,  lyric,  etc. — is  this?  Is  the 
structure  simple?  What,  in  general,  is  the  purpose  of  the  poem? 
Did  you  gain,  from  your  first  reading,  a  favorable  impression? 
What  new  impressions  did  you  get  from  more  careful  study? 

Language,  Allusions,  etc. 

What  have  you  noticed  in  regard  to  the  language  employed? 
Is  it  simple,  like  that  of  every-day  speech?  Are  there  many  book- 
ish words?  archaic  or  obsolete  expressions?  words  employed  in  un- 
usual senses?  Is  ellipsis  common?  Are  many  of  the  sentences 
twisted  out  of  their  natural  grammatical  order?  Are  there  many 
connotative  (subtly  suggestive)  words?  Can  you  find  words 
evidently  chosen  because  their  sound  suggests  the  sense?  Does 
the  poet  express  much  in  few  words — is  he  epigrammatic,  or  are 
his  lines  thin?  Is  the  language  highly  figurative?  Does  any  one 
kind  of  figure  predominate?  Are  the  figures  hackneyed,  conven- 
tional, or  fresh?  Are  many  of  them  derived  from  nature?  from 
reading?    For  what  purpose,  in  the  main,  are  they  employed? 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  209 

Are  there  many  allusions  to  history  or  to  literature?    Compare 
this  poem  with  some  other,  as  regards  language,  etc. 

The  Appeal  to  the  Senses 

What  have  you  noticed  in  regard  to  the  appeal  that  the  poem 
makes  to  the  senses?  Are  the  poet's  pictures  given  in  detail,  or 
merely  ''flashed"?  Pick  out,  if  you  can  find  them,  a  few  words 
or  phrases  suggesting  color  and  a  few  suggesting  sound.  Com- 
pare with  some  other  poem  in  regard  to  sense  appeal. 

The  Thought 

Is  it  a  thoughtful  poem,  appealing  mainly  to  the  intellect,  or 
is  its  appeal  to  the  emotions?  If  thoughtful,  does  some  one 
thought  dominate  all?  Is  the  thought  difficult  to  grasp?  Is  it 
clearly  expressed,  or  veiled?  Does  some  one  line  contain  the 
central  idea?  Do  you  recall  any  other  poem  in  which  the  same 
thought  appears? 

The  Poet's  Art 

Is  the  poem  melodious?  Pick  out  a  few  of  the  more  musical 
lines.  Have  you  noticed  any  devices  by  which  the  poet  imparts 
melody?  What  is  the  scheme  of  versification?  Is  the  poet  a 
skilled  versifier?  What  dramatic  devices  have  you  noted? 
Finally,  what  in  the  author's  skill  as  a  craftsman  do  you  admire 
most? 

The  Author's  Personality 

Does  the  poem  reveal  personality?  Is  the  poet  optimistic? 
pessimistic?  thoughtful?  religious?  sentimental?  emotional?  sym- 
pathetic? playful?  If  none  of  these  adjectives  apply,  what  others 
can  you  suggest?  Is  he  a  close  student  of  human  nature?  a 
reader?  a  scholar?  fond  of  nature?  What  in  his  personality  is 
most  attractive?    What  other  poet  do  you  like  better,  and  why? 

Note. — See  Appendix  for  questions  on  The  Lady  of  the  Lake,  U  Allegro 
and  II  Penseroso,  and  Elegy  in  a  Country  Churchyard. 

EXERCISES:  VERSIFICATION* 

1  Mark  the  scansion  of  the  following  lines,  separating 
the  feet  by  means  of  dividing  lines  and  placing  the  accent 

*  In  the  Appendix  will  be  found  a  section  devoted  to  versification. 


210  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

mark  over  the  stressed  syllables.     Give  each  line  its 
proper  metrical  name. 

1.  The  lone  and  level  sands  stretch  far  away. 

2.  She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night. 

3.  Trust  no  Future,  howe'er  pleasant! 

4.  I  die,  I  faint,  I  fail! 

5.  The  City's  voice  itself  is  soft  like  Solitude's. 

6.  I  must  finish  my  journey  alone. 

7.  'Tis  but  as  ivy-leaves  around  the  ruin'd  turret  wreathe. 

8.  Where  the  heart  is,  let  the  brain  lie  also. 

9.  Take  her  up  tenderly. 

10.  With  the  dew  on  his  brow  and  the  rust  on  his  mail. 

11.  Purple  gauzes,  golden  hazes,  liquid  mazes. 

2  Mark  the  scansion  of  the  following  lines.  Place  a 
caret  ( A )  wherever  a  foot  seems  defective  because  lacking 
an  unaccented  syllable,  and  indicate  by  means  of  an  ^ 
where  you  think  syllables  should  be  run  together.  In  de- 
scribing a  line,  remember  that  the  prevailing  foot — the  foot 
occurring  most  frequently — determines  the  name  of  the 
line. 

1.  Gather  ye  rose-buds  while  ye  may, 

Old  Time  is  still  a-flying. 

2.  The  sea  grows  stormy,  the  little  ones  moan. 

3.  When  shall  we  three  meet  again 

In  thunder,  lightning,  or  in  rain? 

4.  Flow  gently,  sweet  Afton,  among  thy  green  braes; 
Flow  gently,  I'll  sing  thee  a  song  in  thy  praise. 

5.  Down,  down,  down! 

Down  to  the  depths  of  the  sea! 

6.  To  ivy-crowned  Bacchus  bore. 

7.  Glamis  thou  art,  and  Cawdor,  and  shalt  be 

What  thou  art  promised.    Yet  do  I  fear  thy  nature; 
It  is  too  full  o'  the  milk  of  human  kindness 
To  catch  the  nearest  way. 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  211 

S.  Break,  break,  break 

On  thy  cold  gray  stones,  0  Sea. 

9.  This  is  the  forest  primeval;  but  where  are  the  hearts  that 
beneath  it 
Leaped  like  a  roe,  when  he  hears  in  the  woodland  the  voice 
of  the  huntsman? 

10.  till  a  rout  of  saucy  boys 

Brake  on  us  at  our  books,  and  marred  our  peace. 
Masked  like  our  maids,  blustering  I  know  not  what 
Of  insolence  and  love. 

3  Which  of  the  following  rhymes  are  good,  which  im- 
perfect yet  allowable,  and  which  unquestionably  bad? 

Shade,  glade;  blood,  wood;  appearance,  year  hence;  stept, 
wept;  death,  illumineth;  story,  hoary;  rude,  wood;  rock  thee, 
mock  thee;  fled,  dread;  untwistable,  Christabel;  figure,  bigger; 
wild,  child;  dizziness,  business;  ranunculus,  Tommy-make-room- 
for-your-Uncle  us;  seeming,  dreaming;  shower,  dower;  tune, 
moon;  dumb,  lyceum;  knight,  night;  gusht,  dust;  daughter, 
slaughter;  wishes,  kisses;  come,  sung;  rafter,  laughter;  ladies, 
babies;  rehgion,  pigeon;  river,  ever;  philosopher,  loss  of  her; 
luely,  cry;  Lucifer,  news  of  her;  thine,  entwine;  wind,  find;  robin, 
sobbing;  heaven,  given. 

4  Make  a  list  of  all  the  rhymes  to  be  found  in  five  con- 
secutive pages  of  Byron's  poetry;  then  study  these  rhymes 
with  a  view  to  discovering  characteristics.  Do  the  same 
with  Coleridge,  Scott,  or  Browning. 

5  Let  the  members  of  the  class  compete  to  see  who  can 
in  five  minutes  think  of  the  greatest  number  of  words 
rhyming  with  a  word  to  be  announced  by  the  instructor. 

6  Note  the  questionable  rhymes  in  the  following  pass- 
ages. Then,  lest  the  impression  be  gained  that  technically 
perfect  rhyme  alone  is  found  in  poetry  admitted  good, 
study  five  pages  from  some  great  poet,  with  this  one  thing 
in  mind. 


212  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

(a)  A  charming  place  beneath  the  grates, 
For  roasting  chestnuts  and  potates. 

(b)  Some  ask'd  me  where  the  rubies  grew; 

And  nothing  did  I  say, 
'    But  with  my  fingers  pointed  to 
The  Ups  of  Juha. 

(c)  Everywhere,  be  it  dry  or  wet, 

And  market-night  in  the  Haymarket. 

(d)  Here  Hes  our  sovereign  lord  the  king, 

Whose  word  no  man  relied  on; 
Who  never  said  a  foolish  thing. 
And  never  did  a  wise  one. 

7  Mark  the  scansion  of  the  following,  and  describe 
each  stanza : 

1.  So  nigh  is  grandeur  to  our  dust, 

So  near  is  God  to  man. 
When  Duty  whispers  low.  Thou  must, 
The  Youth  replies,  I  can.  — Emerson 

2.  In  the  spring  a  fuller  crimson  comes  upon  the  robin's 

breast; 
In  the  spring  the  wanton  lapwing  gets  himseK  another 

crest; 
In  the  spring  a  livelier  iris  changes  on  the  burnish'd  dove; 
In  the  spring  a  young  man's  fancy  lightly  turns  to  thoughts 

of  love.  — Tennyson 

3.  Like  the  swell  of  some  sweet  tune, 
Morning  rises  into  noon. 

May  glides  onward  into  June.  — Longfellow 

4.  Then  I  cast  loose  my  buffcoat,  each  holster  let  fall, 
Shook  off  both  my  jack-boots,  let  go  belt  and  all. 
Stood  up  in  the  stirrups,  leaned,  patted  his  ear. 
Called  my  Roland  his  pet-name,  my  horse  without  peer; 
Clapped  my  hands,  laughed  and  sang,  any  noise,  bad  or 

good 
Till  at  length  into  Aix  Roland  galloped  and  stood. 

— Browning 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  213 

5.  What  heroes  from  the  woodland  sprung, 

When,  through  the  fresh-awakened  land, 
The  thrilling  cry  of  freedom  rung, 
And  to  the  work  of  warfare  strung 

The  yeoman's  iron  hand!  — Bryant 

6.  She  walks  in  beauty,  like  the  night 

Of  cloudless  climes  and  starry  skies; 
And  all  that's  best  of  dark  and  bright 

Meet  in  her  aspect  and  her  eyes : 
Thus  mellow'd  to  that  tender  hght 

Which  heaven  to  gaudy  day  denies.  — Byron 

7.  In  a  far  country  that  I  cannot  name 
And  on  a  year  long  ages  past  away, 

A  King  there  dwelt,  in  rest  and  ease  and  fame, 
And  richer  than  the  Emperor  is  today: 
The  very  thought  of  what  this  man  might  say 
From  dusk  to  dawn  kept  many  a  lord  awake; 
For  fear  of  him  did  many  a  great  man  quake. 

— William  Morris 

8.  A  casement  high  and  triple-arch'd  there  was 
All  garlanded  with  carven  imageries 

Of  fruits,  and  flowers,  and  bunches  of  knot-grass, 
And  diamonded  with  panes  of  quaint  device. 
Innumerable  of  stains  and  splendid  dyes. 
As  are  the  tiger-moth's  deep-damask'd  wings; 
And  in  the  midst,  'mong  thousand  heraldries, 
And  twilight  saints,  and  dim  emblazonings, 
A  shielded  scutcheon  blush'd  with  blood  of  queens  and  kings. 

— Keats 

9.  What  is  a  sonnet?    'Tis  a  pearly  shell 
That  murmurs  of  the  far-off  murmuring  sea, 
A  precious  jewel  carved  most  curiously; 

It  is  a  little  picture  painted  well. 

What  is  a  sonnet?     'Tis  the  tear  that  fell 

From  a  great  poet's  hidden  ecstasy; 

A  two-edged  sword,  a  star,  a  song — ah  me! 

Sometimes  a  heavy  tolling  funeral  bell. 


214  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

This  was  the  flame  that  shook  with  Dante's  breath, 

The  solemn  organ  whereon  Milton  played, 

And  the  clear  glass  where  Shakespeare's  shadow  falls: 

A  sea  that  is — beware  who  ventureth! 

For  like  a  fiord  the  narrow  floor  is  laid 

Deep  as  mid-ocean  to  sheer  mountain  walls.* 

— R.  W.  Gilder 

10.  Blow,  blow,  thou  winter  wind, 
Thou  art  not  so  unkind 

As  man's  ingratitude; 

Thy  tooth  is  not  so  keen 

Because  thou  art  not  seen. 

Although  thy  breath  be  rude. 
Heigh  ho!  sing  heigh  ho!  unto  the  green  holly. 
Most  friendship  is  feigning,  most  loving  mere  folly; 

Then,  heigh  ho!  the  holly! 

This  life  is  most  jolly.  — Shakespeare 

11.  Fair  Daffodils,  we  weep  to  see 

You  haste  away  so  soon; 
As  yet  the  early  risen  Sun 
Has  not  attained  his  noon. 

Stay,  stay, 
XJntil  the  hasting  day 

,  Has  run 
But  to  the  even-song; 
And  having  pray'd  together,  we 

Will  go  with  you  along.  — ^Herrick 

8  Find,  in  any  volume  by  a  standard  poet — Longfellow, 
Tennyson,  Brovniing,  or  Wordsworth  for  example — five 
different  stanza  forms. 

9  Find,  wherever  you  can,  examples  of  five  different 
kinds  of  four  line  stanzas. 

10  Opening  any  volume  of  poetry,  try  to  discover 
why  some  lines  are  indented,  others  not. 

11  Here  are  passages  to  study.  Point  out  examples 
of  onomatopoeia,  and  determine  where  it  is  employed  most 

*  Reprinted  by  permission  of  Houghton  MiflBin  Company,  publishers 
of  Gilder's  poems. 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  215 

successfully.  Point  out  lines  in  which  the  poet  appears 
to  be  seeking  melody  by  repetition  of  some  letter  or  sound; 
that  is,  point  out  examples  of  alliteration.  Find  lines  in 
which  the  vowels  form  harmonious  sequence.  Find 
passages  in  which  the  swing  of  the  lines  suggests  the  sense. 

1.  The  sound  must  seem  an  echo  of  the  sense: 
Soft  is  the  strain  when  Zephyr  gently  blows, 

And  the  smooth  stream  in  smoother  numbers  flows; 
But  when  loud  surges  lash  the  sounding  shore. 
When  Ajax  strives  some  rock's  vast  weight  to  throw, 
The  line  too  labors,  and  the  words  move  slow. 
Not  so,  when  swift  Camilla  scours  the  plain. 
Flies  o'er  th'  unbending  corn,  and  skims  along  the  main. 

— Pope 

2.  A  woman  weeping  for  her  murdered  mate 
Was  cared  as  much  for  as  a  summer  shower. 

— Tennyson 

3.  And  ever,  against  eating  cares, 
Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs 

Married  to  immortal  verse.  — Milton 

4.  And  on  the  tawny  sands  and  shelves 

Trip  the  pert  fairies  and  the  dapper  elves.      — Milton 

5.  While  the  great  organ  almost  burst  his  pipes. 
Groaning  for  power,  and  rolling  thro'  the  court 

A  long  melodious  thunder.  — Tennyson 

6.  There  is  a  gentle  nymph  not  far  from  hence, 

That  with  moist  curb  sways  the  smooth  Severn  stream. 

— Milton 

7.  Hear  the  sledges  with  the  bells. 

Silver  bells! 
What  a  world  of  merriment  their  melody  foretells! 
How  they  tinkle,  tinkle,  tinkle, 

In  the  icy  air  of  night! 
While  the  stars,  that  over  sprinkle 
All  the  heavens,  seem  to  twinkle 

With  a  crystalline  delight 


216  THE  STUDY   OF  LITERATURE 

Keeping  time,  time,  time. 
In  a  sort  of  Runic  rhyme. 
To  the  tintinnabulation  that  so  musically  wells — 
From  the  bells,  bells,  bells,  bells, 

Bells,  bells,  bells — 
From  the  jingling  and  the  tingling  of  the  bells. 

— POE 

8.  Sweet  bird,  that  shunn'st  the  noise  of  folly, 

'    Most  musical,  most  melancholy !  — Milton 

9.  She  was  pinched  and  pulled,  she  said. 
And  he,  by  Friar's  lantern  led. 
Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat 
To  earn  his  cream  bowl  duly  set. 
When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 
His  shadowy  flail  hath  threshed  the  com 
That  ten  day-laborers  could  not  end; 
Then  lies  him  down,  the  lubber  fiend, 
And,  stretched  out  all  the  chimney's  length, 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength. 

And  crop-full  out  of  door  he  flings 

Ere  the  first  cock  his  matin  rings. 

Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep. 

By  whispering  winds  soon  lulled  asleep.  — Milton 

10.  The  long  low  dune  and  lazy  plunging  sea. 

— Tennyson 

11.  Her  low  firm  voice  and  tender  government. 

— Tennyson 

12.  The  broad  ambrosial  aisles  of  lofty  lime 

Made  noise  with  bees  and  breeze  from  end  to  end. 

— Tennyson 

13.  Now,  while  they  spake,  I  saw  my  father's  face 
Grow  long  and  troubled,  like  a  rising  moon. 
Inflamed  with  wrath;  he  started  on  his  feet, 
Tore  the  king's  letter,  snowed  it  down,  and  rent 
The  wonder  of  the  loom  thro'  warp  and  woof 
From  skirt  to  skirt;  and  at  the  last  he  sware 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  217 

That  he  would  send  a  hundred  thousand  men, 

And  bring  her  in  a  whirlwind;  then  he  chewed 

The  thrice-turned  cud  of  wrath,  and  cooked  his  spleen, 

Communing  with  his  captains  of  the  war. 

— Tennyson 

14.  All  day  within  the  dreamy  house, 

The  doors  upon  their  hinges  creak'd ; 
The  blue  fly  sung  in  the  pane;  the  mouse 

Behind  the  mouldering  wainscot  shriek'd 
Or  from  the  crevice  peer'd  a'bout. 

15.  There  comes  across  the  waves'  tumultuous  roar 
The  wolf's  long  howl  from  Oonalaska's  shore. 

— Campbell 

16.  Blow,  blow,  blow,  set  the  wild  echoes  flying — 
Answer,  echoes,  answer,  dying,  dying,  dying. 

— Tennyson 

17.  Clang  battle  axe,  and  flash  brand!    Let  the  King  reign. 

— Tennyson 

18.  Now  fades  the  glimmering  landscape  on  the  sight, 

And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds, 
Save  where  the  beetle  wheels  his  droning  flight. 
And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  folds.    — Gray 

19.  Sonorous  metal  breathing  martial  sound.        — Milton 

20.  0  Swallow,  Swallow,  flying,  flying  South, 
Fly  to  her,  and  fall  upon  her  gilded  eaves. 

And  tell  her,  tell  her  what  I  tell  to  thee.    — Tennyson 

21.  0  Tite  tute  Tati  tibi  tanta  tyranne  tulisti. 

22.  Row,  vassals,  row,  for  the  pride  of  the  Highlands! 

Stretch  to  your  oars,  for  the  ever-green  Pine! 
0,  that  the  rosebud  that  graces  yon  islands 
Were  wreathed  in  a  garland  around  him  to  twine! 

0  that  some  seedling  gem, 

Worthy  such  noble  stem, 


218  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

Honor'd  and  bless'd  in  their  shadow  might  grow! 

Loud  should  Clan-Alpine  then 

Ring  from  her  deepmost  glen, 
"Roderigh,  Vich  Alpine  dhu,  ho!  ierroe!"      — Scott 

EXERCISES:  FIGURES  OF  SPEECH* 

1  Here  are  similes  to  study.  In  each  case  name  the 
two  things  compared,  the  point  of  resemblance,  and  the 
word  used  to  denote  likeness.  Which  similes  present 
pictures?  Which,  if  any,  suggest  stories?  Which  take 
you  to  nature?  to  books?  Which,  if  any,  seem  common- 
place? Consider  in  each  case  whether  the  comparison  is 
appropriate.  One  of  the  quotations  has  been  called  'Hhe 
most  majestic  simile  in  modern  poetry";  can  you  find 
it?    What  figures  other  than  simile  do  you  discover? 

1.  Burns  Marmion's  swarthy  cheek  like  fire.  — Scott 

2.  I  wandered  lonely  as  a  cloud 

That  floats  on  high  o'er  vales  and  hills. — Wordsworth 

3.  Words  are  like  leaves;  and  where  they  most  abound 
Much  fruit  of  sense  beneath  is  rarely  found.       — Pope 

4.  I  fear  thee,  ancient  Mariner! 

I  fear  thy  skinny  hand! 
And  thou  art  long,  and  lank,  and  brown, 
As  is  the  ribbed  sea-sand.  — Coleridge 

5.  It  [the  Nile]  flows  through  old,  hush  Egypt  and  its  sands 
Like  some  grave  mighty  thought,  threading  a  stream. 

— Hunt 

6.  Between  two  worlds  fife  hovers  like  a  star, 
Twixt  night  and  morn,  upon  the  horizon's  verge. 

— Byron 
*  In  the  Appendix  will  be  found  a  section  devoted  to  figures  of  speech. 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  219 

7.  In  broad  daylight,  and  at  noon, 
Yesterday  I  saw  the  moon 
Saihng  high,  but  faint  and  white, 

As  a  schoolboy's  paper  kite.  — Longfellow 

8.  and  the  women  sung 
Between  the  rougher  voices  of  the  men. 

Like  linnets  in  the  pauses  of  the  wind.        — Tennyson 

9.  if  I  but  wave  this  wand. 
Your  nerves  are  all  chain'd  up  in  alabaster, 
And  you  a  statue,  or  as  Daphne  was, 

Root-bound,  that  fled  Apollo.  — Milton 

10.  And  fast  through  the  midnight  dark  and  drear. 
Through  the  whistling  sleet  and  snow. 
Like  a  sheeted  ghost  the  vessel  swept 
Tow'rds  the  reef  of  Norman's  Woe.    — Longfellow 

IL  Life,  like  a  dome  of  many-colored  glass. 

Stains  the  white  radiance  of  eternity.  — Shelley 

12.  Thus  Satan,  talking  to  his  nearest  mate. 
With  head  uplift  above  the  wave,  and  eyes 
That  sparkling  blazed;  his  other  parts  besides 
Prone  on  the  flood,  extended  long  and  large, 
Lay  floating  many  a  rood,  in  bulk  as  huge 
As  whom  the  fables  name  of  monstrous  size, 
Titanian  or  Earth-born,  that  warred  on  Jove, 
Briareos  or  Typhon,  whom  the  den 
By  ancient  Tarsus  held,  or  that  sea-beast 
Leviathan,  which  God  of  all  his  works 
Created  hugest  that  swim  the  ocean-stream. 
Him,  haply  slumbering  on  the  Norway  foam. 
The  pilot  of  some  small,  night-foundered  skiff. 
Deeming  some  island,  oft,  as  seamen  tell. 
With  fixed  anchor  in  his  scaly  rind. 
Moors  by  his  side  under  the  lea,  while  night 
Invests  the  sea,  and  wished  morn  delays.       — Milton 


220  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

13.  But  Beauty,  like  the  fair  Hesperian  tree 
Laden  with  blooming  gold,  had  need  the  guard 
Of  dragon  watch  with  unenchanted  eye. 

To  save  her  blossoms  and  defend  her  fruit 

From  the  rash  hand  of  bold  Incontinence.      — Milton 

14.  The  princes  applaud  with  a  furious  joy; 

And  the  King  seized  a  flambeau  with  zeal  to  destroy. 

Thais  led  the  way 

To  light  him  to  his  prey, 
And  like  another  Helen,  fired  another  Troy!  — Dryden 

2  Study  the  following  examples  of  metaphor  and  per- 
sonification, in  each  case  naming  the  two  things  compared. 
Expand  each  metaphor,  if  possible,  into  a  simile.  Which 
suggest  pictures?  Do  any  suggest  stories?  Which  do  you 
like  best?  What  figures  other  than  metaphor  and  personi- 
fication do  you  discover? 

1.  We  fail! 

But  screw  your  courage  to  the  sticking-place, 

And  we'll  not  fail.  ■ — Shakespeare 

2.  Give  me  three  days  to  melt  her  fancy.       — Tennyson 

3.  The  panting  City  cried  to  the  Sea, 

"I  am  faint  with  heat, — oh  breathe  on  me!" 

— Longfellow 

4.  and  betwixt  them  blossomed  up 
From  out  a  common  vein  of  memory 

Sweet  household  talk.  — ^Tennyson 

5.  Fear  at  my  heart,  as  at  a  cup, 
My  life-blood  seemed  to  sip! 

— Coleridge 

6.  I  heard  the  trailing  garments  of  the  Night 

Sweep  through  her  marble  halls! 
I  saw  her  sable  skirts  all  fringed  with  light 
From  the  celestial  walls.  — Longfellow 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  221 

7.  Their  hands  and  faces  were  all  badged  with  blood. 

— Shakespeare 

8.  Sir,  I  was  courteous,  every  phrase  well-oiled. 

— Tennyson 

9.  those  Hnen  cheeks  of  thine 

Are  counsellors  to  fear.  — Shakespeare 

10.  St.  Agnes'  Eve — Ah,  bitter  chill  it  was!  — Keats 

11.  Red  Battle  stamped  his  foot,  and  nations  felt  the  shock. 

— Byron 

12.  And  peace  went  with  them  one  and  all, 

And  each  calm  pillow  spread; 
But  guilt  was  my  grim  chamberlain, 

That  lighted  me  to  bed; 
And  drew  my  midnight  curtains  round 

With  fingers  bloody  red!  — Hood 

13.  Day  hath  put  on  his  jacket,  and  around 
His  burning  bosom  buttoned  it  with  stars. 
Here  will  I  lay  me  on  the  velvet  grass, 
That  is  like  a  padding  to  earth's  meagre  ribs. 
And  hold  communion  with  the  things  about  me. 
Ah  me!  how  lovely  is  the  golden  braid 

That  binds  the  skirt  of  night's  descending  robe! 
The  thin  leaves,  quivering  on  their  silken  threads. 
Do  make  a  music  like  to  rustling  satin. 
As  the  Mght  breezes  smooth  their  downy  nap. 

— Holmes 

3  Here  are  examples  of  many  kinds  of  figures  and 
rhetorical  devices  employed  to  gain  clearness,  force,  and 
beauty.  Name  each  figure  or  device,  and  consider  care- 
fully whether  it  is  effective. 

1.  Sand-strewn  caverns,  cool  and  deep. 
Where  the  winds  are  all  asleep;  .  .  . 
Where  great  whales  come  sailing  by, 
Sail  and  sail,  with  unshut  eye. 
Round  the  world  for  ever  and  aye.  — ^Arnold 


222  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

2.  Methought  I  heard  a  voice  cry  ''Sleep  no  more! 
Macbeth  does  murder  sleep, — the  imiocent  sleep, 
Sleep  that  knits  up  the  ravell'd  sleave  of  care. 
The  death  of  each  day's  life,  sore  labor's  bath, 
Balm  of  hurt  minds,  great  nature's  second  course. 
Chief  nourisher  in  life's  feast. "  — Shakespeare 

3.  Oh,  thou  art  fairer  than  the  evening  air. 
Clad  in  the  beauty  of  a  thousand  stars. 

— Marlowe 

4.  I  will  kill  thee  a  hundred  and  fifty  ways. 

— Shakespeare 

5.  Full  fifty  thousand  muskets  bright 

Led  by  old  warriors  trained  in  fight.  — Croker 

6.  0  for  a  beaker  full  of  the  warm  South.  — Keats 

7.  God  made  the  country,  and  man  made  the  town. 

— COWPER 

8.  Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  summer  is  green. 
That  host  with  their  banners  at  sunset  were  seen; 
Ijike  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  autumn  has  blown. 
That  host  on  the  morrow  lay  withered  and  strown. 

— Byron 

9.  Full  many  a  glorious  morning  have  I  seen 
Flatter  the  mountain-top  with  sovereign  eye. 

— Shakespeare 

10.  Thus  march'd  the  chief,  tremendous  as  a  god; 

Grimly  he  smiled;  earth  trembled  as  he  strode.  — Pope 

IL  A  thousand  years  their  cloudy  wings  expand 

Around  me.  — Byron 

12.  Was  this  the  face  that  launched  a  thousand  ships 
And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium? — 
Sweet  Helen,  make  me  immortal  with  a  kiss. 

— Marlowe 

13.  Wee,  modest,  crimson-tipped  flow'r, 
Thou's  met  me  in  an  evil  hour; 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY 


223 


For  I  maun  crush  amang  the  stoure 
Thy  slender  stem. 

To  spare  thee  now  is  past  my  pow'r, 
Thou  bonnie  gem. 

14.  Hark!  a  shout — a  crash — a  groan. 


— Burns 
— Arnolp 


15.  Stand!  the  ground's  your  own,  my  braves! 
Will  you  give  it  up  to  slaves? 
Will  you  look  for  greener  graves? 

Hope  ye  mercy  still? 
What's  the  mercy  despots  feel? 
Hear  it  in  that  battle-peal! 
Read  it  in  yon  bristling  steel! 
Ask  it — ye  who  will. 


— PlERPONT 


16.  Some  He  before  the  churchyard  stone, 
And  some  before  the  speaker. 


— Praed 


17.  The  king  amidst  the  mournful  circle  rose; 

Down  his  wan  cheek  a  briny  torrent  flows.         — Pope 

18.  Half  a  league,  half  a  league. 
Half  a  league  onward, 

All  in  the  valley  of  Death 

Rode  the  six  hundred.  — Tennyson 


19.  Fair  laughs  the  moon,  and  soft  the  zephyr  blows, 

While  proudly  riding  o'er  the  azure  realm. 
In  gallant  trim  the  gilded  vessel  goes, 

Youth  at  the  prow,  and  Pleasure  at  the  helm; 
Regardless  of  the  sweeping  whirlwind's  sway, 
That,  hush'd  in  grim  repose,  expects  his  evening  prey. 

— Gray 

20.  Here  while  the  courtier  glitters  in  brocade. 
There  the  pale  artist  plies  the  sickly  trade; 

Here  where  the  proud  their  long-drawn  pomp  display, 
There  the  black  gibbet  glooms  beside  the  way. 

— Goldsmith 


224  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

21.  What  has  the  gray-hair'd  prisoner  done? 

Has  murder  stained  his  hands  with  gore? 
Not  so.    His  crime's  a  fouler  one — 
God  made  the  old  man  poor.  — Whittier 

22.  Her  little  feet  beneath  her  petticoat 
Like  Httle  mice  stole  in  and  out, 

As  if  they  feared  the  light.  — Suckling 

23.  Nay,  could  their  numbers  countervail  the  stars, 
Or  ever-drizzling  drops  of  April  showers, 

Or  wither'd  leaves  that  autumn  shaketh  down. 
Yet  would  the  Soldan  by  his  conquering  power 
So  scatter  and  consume  them  in  his  rage 
That  not  a  man  should  live  to  rue  their  fall. 

— Marlowe 

24.  And  Earl  Doorm 

Struck  with  a  knife's  haft  hard  against  the  board. 
And  call'd  for  flesh  and  wine  to  feed  his  spears. 

— Tennyson 

25.  It  will  have  blood;  they  say  blood  will  have  blood. 

— Shakespeare 

26.  There  was  a  sound  of  revelry  by  night. 
And  Belgium's  capital  had  gather'd  then 
Her  Beauty  and  her  Chivalry,  and  bright 

The  lamps  shone  o'er  fair  women  and  brave  men; 

A  thousand  hearts  beat  happily;  and  when 

Music  arose  with  its  voluptuous  swell. 

Soft  eyes  look'd  love  to  eyes  which  spake  again, 

And  all  went  merry  as  a  wedding  bell; 

But  hush!  hark!  a  deep  sound  strikes  like  a  rising  knell! 

Did  ye  not  hear  it? — No;  'twas  but  the  wind, 

Or  the  car  rattling  o'er  the  stony  street; 

On  with  the  dance!  let  joy  be  unconfined; 

No  sleep  till  morn,  when  Youth  and  Pleasure  meet 

To  chase  the  glowing  Hours  with  flying  feet — 

But  hark! — ^that  heavy  sound  breaks  in  once  more, 


THE   STUDY  OF  POETRY  225 

As  if  the  clouds  its  echo  would  repeat; 
And  nearer,  clearer,  deadlier  than  before! 
Arm!  Arm!  it  is — it  is — the  cannon's  opening  roar. 

— Byron 
27.  As  some  rich  woman,  on  a  winter's  morn, 

Eyes  through  her  silken  curtains  the  poor  drudge 

Who  with  numb  blacken'd  fingers  makes  her  fire — 

At  cock-crow,  on  a  starlit  winter's  morn, 

When  the  frost  flowers  the  whiten'd  window-panes — 

And  wonders  how  she  lives,  and  what  the  thoughts 

Of  that  poor  drudge  may  be;  so  Rustum  eyed 

The  unknown  adventurous  Youth,  who  from  afar 

Came  seeking  Rustum,  and  defying  forth 

All  the  most  valiant  chiefs;  long  he  perused 

His  spirited  air,  and  wonder'd  who  he  was.    — Arnold 

4  Study  the  prose  passages  found  in  the  chapter  on 
Clearness,  picking  out  and  naming  the  figures. 

5  Do  the  same  with  the  passages  found  in  the  chapter 
on  Force. 

6  Read  an  editorial  column  in  the  morning  paper  and 
pick  out  the  figures.  Do  the  same  with  a  column  from 
the  sporting  page. 

7  Study  two  or  three  pages  in  some  textbook — a  his- 
tory or  an  astronomy,  for  example — searching  carefully 
for  figures. 

8  Burns  is  preeminently  a  song-writer.  Search  through 
four  pages  of  his  poetry  for  figures.  The  songs  found  in 
Tennyson's  The  Princess  are  very  beautiful;  search  them 
too  for  figures. 

9  Find,  wherever  you  can,  examples  of  at  least  four 
kinds  of  figures. 

10  Here  are  two  examples  of  hyperbole.  Which  is 
better,  and  why? 


226  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

(a)  Oh  maid!  thou  art  so  beauteous 

That  yon  bright  moon  is  riding,  all  in  haste, 
To  gaze  on  thee. 

(b)  I  found  her  on  the  floor 
In  all  the  storm  of  grief,  yet  beautiful, 
Pouring  out  tears  at  such  a  lavish  rate 

That  were  the  world  on  fire,  they  might  have  drown'd 
The  wrath  of  heaven,  and  quenched  the  mighty  rain. 

11  If  you  were  writing  poetry,  which  of  the  following 
would  you  employ:  ocean  or  briny  deep;  fish  or  finny 
tribe;  blood  or  life's  purple  tide;  birds  or  feathered  race; 
moon  or  refulgent  lamp  of  night;  sun  or  glowing  orb  of 
day;  snow  or  fleecy  winter;  sweat  or  briny  drops;  sleep 
or  balmy  blessings  of  the  night?  What  other  time-worn 
conventional  equivalents  for  simple  words  can  you  think 
of? 

EXERCISES:  APPRECIATION  OF  POETRY 

1  The  beauty  of  a  line  of  poetry  sometimes  lies  hidden  in 
an  adjective  or  adjective  phrase  aptly  chosen.  Study 
the  italicized  expressions  in  the  following  passages,  first 
making  sure  of  their  meaning,  then  trying  to  discover 
their  appropriateness.  Which  of  the  epithets  appeal  most 
strongly  to  the  imagination,  bringing  pictures  to  mind, 
or  inviting  the  fancy  to  roam? 

1.  Beside  yon  straggling  fence  that  skirts  the  way 
With  blossom'd  furze  unprofitabhj  gay, 
There,  in  his  noisy  mansion,  skilled  to  rule, 
The  village  master  taught  his  little  school. 

— Goldsmith 

2.  And  all  our  yesterdays  have  lighted  fools 

The  way  to  dusty  death.  — Shakespeare 

3.  a  harmless,  necessary  cat.         — Shakespeare 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  227 

4.  The  silver,  snarling  trumpets  'gan  to  chide.      — ICeats 

5.  Mountains  on  whose  barren  breast 

The  laboring  clouds  do  often  rest.  — Milton 

6.  0  for  a  soft  and  gentle  wind! 

I  heard  a  fair  one  cry; 
But  give  to  me  a  snoring  breeze 
And  white  waves  heaving  high.  — Cunningham 

7.  Much  can  they  praise  the  trees  so  straight  and  hy, 
The  sayling  pine,  the  cedar  proud  and  tall, 

The  vine-propp  elme,  the  poplar  never  dry, 
The  builder  oake,  sole  king  of  forrests  all, 
The  aspine  good  for  staves,  the  cypress  funeral. 

— ^Spenser 

8.  And  gladly  banish  squint  suspicion.  — Milton 

9.  Was  this  the  face  that  launch'd  a  thousand  ships 

And  burnt  the  topless  towers  of  Ilium?        ^-Marlowe 

10.  0,  welcome,  pure-eyed  Faith,  whitehanded  Hope, 

Thou  hovering  Angel  girt  with  golden  wings.     — Milton 

1.  Sport  that  wrinkled  Care  derides, 

And  Laughter  holding  both  his  sides.  — Milton 

12.  And  more,  to  luUe  him  in  his  slumber  soft, 

A  trickling  streame  from  high  rock  tumbhng  downe, 

And  ever  drizzling  raine  upon  the  loft, 

Mixt  with  a  murmuring  winde,  much  like  to  sowne 

Of  swarming  bees,  did  cast  him  in  a  swowne; 

No  other  noyse,  nor  peoples  troublous  cryes. 

As  still  are  wont  t'annoy  the  walled  towne, 

Might  there  be  heard;  but  carelesse  Quiet  lyes, 

Wrapt  in  eternall  silence  far  from  enemys.     — Spenser 

13.  Thyrsis!  whose  artful  strains  have  oft  delayed 

The  huddling  brook  to  hear  his  madrigal.        — Milton 


228  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

14.  And  when  my  name  and  honor  shall  be  spread 

As  far  as  Boreas  [the  north  wind]  claps  his  brazen  wings 
Or  fair  Bootes  [a  constellation]  sends  his  cheerful  light, 
Then  shalt  thou  be  competitor  witV»  me, 
And  sit  with  Tamburlaine  in  all  his  majesty. 

— Marlowe 

15.  Now  fades  the  glimmering  landscape  on  the  sight, 
And  all  the  air  a  solemn  stillness  holds, 

Save  where  the  beetle  wheels  his  droning  flight. 

And  drowsy  tinklings  lull  the  distant  fold.  — Gray 

16.  But  let  my  due  feet  never  fail 

To  walk  the  studious  cloister's  pale, 

And  love  the  high-embowhd  roof, 

With  antique  pillars  massy  proof, 

And  storied  windows  richly  dighty 

Casting  a  dim  religious  light.  — Milton 

17.  Rough  wind,  that  mournest  loud 

Grief,  too  sad  for  song, 
Wild  wind,  when  sullen  cloud 

Knells  all  the  night  long; 
Sad  storm  whose  tears  are  vain, 
Bare  woods  whose  branches  stain. 
Deep  caves  and  dreary  main — 

Wail  for  the  world's  wrong!  — Shelley 

2  Study,  as  directed  in  the  preceding  exercise,  the  quota- 
tions found  in  the  exercises  beginning  on  page  209. 

3  Study  also  the  quotations  in  the  exercises  beginning 
on  page  218. 

4  Rewrite  the  first  seventeen  lines  in  Goldsmith's  De- 
serted Village,  endeavoring  to  substitute  for  each  adjective, 
participles  included,  another  equally  appropriate. 

5  In  one  of  his  poems  Wordsworth  tells  how  a  little 
blind  boy,  filled  with  desire  for  adventure,  launches  a 
turtle-shell  and  goes 

hurrying  down, 
Down  to  the  mighty  sea. 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  229 

In  an  early  version  of  the  poem,  the  frail  craft  is  not  a 
turtle-shell,  but 

A  household  tub,  like  one  of  those 
Which  women  use  to  wash  their  clothes. 

Why  did  Wordsworth  make  this  change?     In  another 
poem,  a  child's  grave  is  thus  described: 

I've  measured  it  from  side  to  side, 
'Tis  three  feet  long,  and  two  feet  wide. 

In  a  later  version  we  find  this  substitution : 

Though  but  of  compass  small,  and  bare 
To  thirsty  suns  and  parching  air. 

Which  is  better,  and  why?     Consider  also  the  following, 
determining  in  each  case  which  is  the  better  rendering: 

(a)  Home  they  brought  her  warrior  dead. 

(b)  Home  they  brought  him,  slain  with  spears. 

(a)  Ay  me,  ay  me,  the  woods  decay  and  fall. 

(b)  The  woods  decay,  the  woods  decay,  and  fall. 

(a)  Willows  whiten,  aspens  quiver, 

The  sunbeam  showers  break  and  quiver 
In  the  stream  that  runneth  ever. 

(b)  Willows  whiten,  aspens  quiver; 
Little  breezes  dusk  and  shiver 
Thro'  the  wave  that  runs  forever. 

(a)  Now,  from  the  rock  Tarpeian, 

Could  the  wan  burghers  spy 
The  line  of  blazing  villages 

Red  in  the  midnight  sky! 
The  Fathers  of  the  City 

They  sat  all  night  and  day, 
For  every  hour  some  horseman  came 

With  tidings  of  dismay. 


230  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

(b)  Now  from  the  rock  Tarpeian 

Did  paling  terror  spy- 
Long  blazing  lines  of  Roman  homes 

Made  torches  in  the  sky. 
The  Fathers  of  the  City 

Sat  with  the  night  and  day, 
As  horsemen  of  the  fearful  hours 

Told  tidings  of  dismay. 

(a)  Even  the  potter  is  jealous  of  potter,  and  craftsman  of 

craftsman. 

(b)  Even  the  potter  of  potter  is  jealous,  and  craftsman  of 

craftsman. 

(a)  There  she  stood. 
About  a  yoimg  bird's  flutter  from  a  wood. 

(b)  There  she  stood, 
About  twelve  feet  or  twenty  from  a  wood. 

(a)  Now  about  twilight  of  that  evening  dim.         , 

(b)  Now  on  the  moth-time  of  that  evening  dim. 

6  Determine  in  each  case  which  is  the  more  melodious 
passage : 

(a)  "We  two,"  she  said,  "will  seek  the  groves 

Where  Lady  Mary  is. 
With  her  five  handmaidens,  whose  names 

Are  five  sweet  symphonies, — 
Cecily,  Gertrude,  Magdalen, 

Margaret,  and  Rosalys. "  — Rossetti 

(b)  Bulkeley,  Hunt,  Willard,  Hosmer,  Merriam,  Flint, 
Possessed  the  land  which  rendered  to  their  toil 
Hay,  corn,  roots,  hemp,  flax,  apples,  wool,  and  wood. 

— Emerson 
(a)  In  distant  countries  I  have  been. 
And  yet  I  have  not  often  seen 
A  healthy  man,  a  man  full  grown, 
Weep  in  the  public  roads  alone. 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  231 

But  such  a  one  on  English  ground, 

And  in  the  broad  highway  I  met; 

Along  the  broad  highway  he  came, 

His  cheeks  with  tears  were  wet. 

Sturdy  he  seemed,  though  he  was  sad. 

And  in  his  arms  a  lamb  he  had.      — Wordsworth 

(b)  Behold  her,  single  in  the  field, 
Yon  solitary  Highland  lass! 
Reaping  and  singing  by  herself. 
Stop  here,  or  gently  pass! 
Alone  she  cuts  and  binds  the  grain, 
And  sings  a  melancholy  strain ; 
0  hsten!  for  the  vale  profound 
Is  overflowing  with  the  sound.        — Wordsworth 

7  A  group  of  fifty  or  more  high  school  seniors,  invited 
to  select  the  most  melodious  lines  in  Milton's  Minor  Poems, 
found  it  quite  impossible  to  agree.  Some  ears  were  charmed 
by  alliteration,  others  by  liquids  (1,  m,  n,  r),  and  still 
others  by  a  vowel  sound  often  repeated.  A  few  showed  a 
fondness  for  sibilants  (s,  z,  sh,  etc.).  Among  the  favorites 
were  these  two  passages : 

Lap  me  in  soft  Lydian  airs 
Married  to  immortal  verse. 

Dingle  or  bushy  dell  of  this  wild  wood, 
And  every  bosky  bourn  from  side  to  side. 
My  daily  walk  and  ancient  neighborhood. 

Try  the  experiment,  limiting  the  investigation  to  one  of 
the  Milton  poems.  Or  substitute  Shakespeare,  Tennyson, 
or  Coleridge  for  Milton. 

8  The  same  group  of  seniors  having  been  asked  to 
select  phrases  from  Milton  that  were  magical  in  their 
suggestive  power,  flashing  upon  the  mind  a  picture,  or 
inviting  the  fancy  to  build,  the  results  showed  a  surpris- 
ingly wide  range  of  preference,  among  the  selected  phrases 


232  THE  STUDY  OF  LITERATURE 

being  the  following:  ''the  unsunned  heaps  of  miser's  treas- 
ure," ''the  huddling  brook,"  "twilight  meadows,"  "hoary 
Nereus,"  "tapestry  halls,"  "snaky-headed  Gorgon," 
"black  usurping  mists,"  "slumbering  morn."  Try  the 
same  experiment,  limiting  the  field,  however,  to  some  one 
poem. 

9  A  third  experiment  consisted  in  selecting  lines  in 
which  the  sound  and  the  movement  echo  the  sense. 
Among  the  lines  chosen  were  the  following : 

'Mongst  horrid  shapes  and  shrieks,  and  sights  unholy! 
Basks  at  the  fire  his  hairy  strength. 
His  orient  liquor  in  a  crystal  glass. 

Try  the  experiment,  either  with  one  of  Milton's  poems 
or  with  ten  pages  from  Tennyson  or  Shakespeare. 

10  Poetry  is  sensuous;  that  is,  it  moves  us  by  appealing, 
through  the  imagination,  to  the  sense  of  hearing,  the 
sense  of  sight,  of  touch,  of  taste,  of  smell.  There  are  those 
who  do  not  like  poetry,  largely  because  they  read  so 
hastily,  or  with  so  sluggish  imagination,  that  they  get 
but  imperfectly  the  fancies  that  fill  the  poet's  mind. 
To  how  many  senses  does  each  of  the  following  passages 
appeal? 

(a)  Hark,  hark! 

Bow-wow. 
The  watch-dogs  bark: 

Bow-wow. 
Hark,  hark!    I  hear 
The  strain  of  strutting  chanticleer 

Cry  Cock-a-diddle-dow!  — Shakespeare 

(b)  I  find  thee  apt; 

And  duller  shouldst  thou  be  than  the  fat  weed 
That  roots  itself  in  ease  on  Lethe  wharf, 
Wouldst  thou  not  stir  in  this.         — Shakespeare 


THE  STUDY  OF  POETRY  233 

(c)  St.  Agnes'  Eve — Ah,  bitter  chill  it  was! 
The  owl,  for  all  his  feathers,  was  a-cold; 

The  hare  limp'd  trembling  through  the  frozen  grass, 
And  silent  was  the  flock  in  woolly  fold: 
Numb  were  the  Beadsman's  fingers,  while  he  told 
His  rosary,  and  while  his  frosted  breath, 
Like  pious  incense  from  a  censer  old, 
Seem'd  taking  flight  for  heaven,  without  a  death, 
Past  the  sweet  Virgin's  picture,  while  his  prayer  he  saith. 

— Keats 

(d)  And  still  she  slept  an  azure-lidded  sleep. 
In  blanched  linen,  smooth,  and  lavender'd. 
While  he  from  forth  the  closet  brought  a  heap 
Of  candied  apple,  quince,  and  plum,  and  gourd; 
With  jelUes  soother  than  the  creamy  curd. 
And  lucent  syrops,  tinct  with  cinnamon; 
Manna  and  dates,  in  argosy  transferr'd 

From  Fez;  and  spiced  dainties,  every  one, 
From  silken  Samarcand  to  cedar'd  Lebanon.        — Keats 


Cen. 
tury 


FOURTEENTI 

40       1400 


14C 


FIFTEENTH 


1500 


Per- 
iod 


40 


CHAUCER 


1400 


CAXTON  I     PRI 

1500 


•  CHAUCER- 


Langland- 


-Wycllf- 


MALORY  -*■ 


MORE- 


■Tynda 


PART  m 

A  BRIEF  SUMMARY  OF  EXGLBH 
LTTERATCBE 


INTRODUCTORY 

The  study  of  literature  follows  several  lines.    Attention 
may  be  centered,  for  example,  on  a  single  masterpiece 
considered  separately,  with  a  view  to  under-    Ways  of 
standing  it  thoroughly  and  training  the  mind    studying 
in    literary    appreciation.      A    little    more    literature 
difficult  is  the  study  of  a  group  of  masterpieces  as  types 
of  various  forms — the  essay,  the  novel,  the  drama.     A 
third  line  of  study  confines  itself  to  the  works  of  a  single 
author,  with  a  view  to  becoming  familiar  with  his  art  and 
his  personality  in  all  the  stages  of  development.    This  too 
is  difficult,  but  delightful.    Finally,  it  is  profitable  to  study 
all  the  works,  prose  and  poetry,  of  a  certain  group  of 
authors — the  Elizabethan,  for  example,  or  the  Victorian, 
noting  common  characteristics  and  getting  gfimpses  of 
the  times  as  reflected  in  literature. 

Eventually,  however,  need  is  felt  of  a  wide  survey  of  the 
entire  field.    The  student  becomes  interested  in  literature 
as  a  growth,  from  the  first  faint  beginnings    Need  of 
down  to  the  present  day.     He  wishes  to    a  general 
know  when  this  Uterary  form  appeared,  when    survey 
that,  and  what  changes  they  have  undergone;  why  we  find 
in  one  century  mountain  peaks,  in  another  only  dull  table- 
lands of  mediocrity.    Even  in  the  earlier  stages  of  study, 
at  least  a  brief  historical  sketch  is  convenient,  indeed 
almost  necessary,  for  intelligent  study,  that  each  master- 
piece may  be  given  its  proper  setting.     The  following 
summary  is  presented  for  this  purpose — for  those  who 
lack  the  time  necessary  to  master  a  complete  manual.    It 
contains  the  little  that  a  high  school  pupil  ought  to  know, 

237 


238    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

before  graduation,  about  the  history  of  Enghsh  literature. 
The  tables  of  authors  and  masterpieces  are  so  brief  that 
they  may  with  profit  be  memorized,  save  for  the  dates, 
just  as  the  student  of  history  memorizes  lists  of  kings.  It 
is  assumed  that,  besides  learning  the  tables,  the  pupil  will 
study  in  detail  the  lives  of  the  few  authors  read  in  class- 
room, finding  his  material  either  in  the  introductory  page& 
of  school  editions  or  in  such  works  of  reference  as  are 
provided  in  the  school  library. 


CHAPTER  XX 

OLD  ENGLISH  OR  ANGLO-SAXON  PERIOD: 
650-1066 

Author  Unknown  fBeowulf 

Caedmon  and  others        fParaphrases  of  Genesis,  Exodus,  and 

Daniel 

Bede  Many  works  in  Latin,   including  a 

church  history  of  the  English 
People 

Cynewulf  fThe  Christ;  legends  of  saints;  riddles 

King  Alfred  and  others  The  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle;  transla- 
tions from  Latin  of  several  standard 
works,  including  Bede's  History 

Various  writers  Sermons  and  other  works  religious  in 

character 

Note. — Poetry  is  indicated  by  a  dagger  and  prose  fiction  by  a  circle. 
The  names  of  the  greatest  authors  appear  in  heavy  type. 

A  single  shelf  of  no  great  length  would  hold  all  that  has 

come  down  to  us  from  this  early  period :  a  few  manuscript 

books  and  a  few  loose  leaves,  which  rare  good 

fortune  has  preserved  for  a  thousand  years      ^^^7 

.  *^  remains 

and  more.     Could  these  priceless  relics  be 

brought  together  and  were  we  privileged  to  examine  them, 
our  first  surprise,  perhaps,  would  come  at 
finding  the  manuscripts  written  in  a  language 
which,  though  English,  is  as  strange  as  German,  which  it 
resembles.    Had  we  the  ability  to  read  Anglo- 
Saxon,  as  early  Enghsh  is  called,  we  should     ^  ^g^^us 
again  be  surprised  to  find  how  much  of  this 
early  literature,  poetry  and  prose,  is  of  a  religious  character. 
But  this  is  easily  explained. 

239 


240    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

When,  in  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries,  the  English  left 
their  homes  on  the  south  shores  of  the  Baltic  and  North 

seas  and  invaded  England,  pillaging,  plunder- 
C^stia^ty       ^^^'  killing  great  numbers  of  the  Britons 

whose  lands  they  were  seizing,  and  driving 
the  remainder  westward,  they  were  a  pagan  people  and 
such  they  remained  till  the  sixth  century  when  mission- 
aries from  Italy  and  Ireland  wrought  a  great  change.  In  a 
remarkably  short  time  Christianity  drove  out  the  pagan 
beliefs.  Monasteries  rose  here  and  there  throughout  the 
land,  each  monastery  not  only  a  religious  but  an  educa- 
tional center,  for  connected  with  each  was  a  school.  Some 
of  these  schools  grew  into  what  might  be  called  colleges, 
whose  truly  great  teachers  attracted  large  numbers.  In 
less  than  a  century  after  the  coming  of  the  missionaries, 
the  English  monasteries  were  famous  throughout  western 
Europe,  so  great  a  zeal  did  the  English  show  for  religion 
and  learning. 

It  is  not  strange,  therefore,  that  the  literature  of  this 
period,  for  the  most  part  written  by  monks  or  at  least  by 
Earliest  those  who  had  received  their  training  in  the 

English  monasteries,  should  be  religious.     It  is  a 

poetry  mistake,   however,   to   think  that   English 

literature  was  cradled  in  the  monastery.  The  English  had 
always  been  a  song-loving  people.  They  sang  as  they 
rushed  into  battle.  Song  cheered  their  feasts  when  petty 
tribal  kings  gathered  their  warriors  about  them  in  the 
mead  halls.  There  were  professional  poets  among  them — 
scops  they  were  called — who  composed  and  chanted  hero- 
songs.  Little  of  this  earlier ' '  heathen '  *  poetry  has  been  pre- 
served, however;  for  it  was  oral  Hterature,  passed  down  from 
singer  to  singer  by  memory  alone.  Yet  the  most  interest- 
ing poem  in  all  this  period  of  four  centuries  takes  us  back 
to  these  pre-Christian  days,  though  the  version  that  we 


ANGLO-SAXON  PERIOD  241 

have  was  made  by  a  monk  of  perhaps  the  eighth  century, 
who,  happily  for  us,  felt  in  this  song  of  earlier  times  that 
which  stirred  his  blood  and  prompted  him  to  record  it  on 
parchment.  It  is  a  poem  of  over  3000  lines,  unrhymed 
like  all  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  called  Beowulf. 
It  tells  a  wonderful  story  of  how  Beowulf, 
when  a  young  man,  killed  in  dreadful  encounters  two 
half -human  monsters  of  the  fens;  and  how,  in  his  old  age, 
he  slew  a  huge,  fire-spitting,  winged  dragon.  The  poem  is 
well  worth  reading,  because  it  is  a  good  story  well  told, 
because  it  gives  invaluable  pictures  of  early  EngUsh  life, 
and  because  its  ideals  of  manhood  are  noble. 

Of  the  literature  which  was  produced  later,  when  the 
monasteries  were  so  powerful  in  their  good  work,  the 
greater  part  is  poetry,  associated  with  two  Caedmon, 
names,  Caedmon  and  Cynewulf,  between  Cynewulf, 
whom,  in  point  of  time,  came  Bede,  a  great  ^®^® 
teacher  and  writer  of  Latin  prose,  whose  history  of  the 
church  in  England,  credulous  yet  honest  and  painstaking, 
is  a  valuable  document.  Caedmon,  Bede  tells  us  in  his 
history,  was  an  uneducated  menial  connected  with  a 
Northumbrian  monastery,  a  mere  servant  who  suddenly 
became  inspired  to  compose  and  sing,  not  of  encounters 
with  the  dark  fenland  demons  but  the  wonderful  stories 
told  in  the  Old  Testament.  Scholars  say  that  none  of  the 
three  paraphrases  of  Genesis,  Exodus,  and  Daniel  which 
we  have  should  be  attributed  to  him;  yet  we  know  that  he, 
and  probably  many  another,  composed  such  songs,  long  nar- 
ratives which  must  have  possessed  great  interest  to  those 
to  whom  the  Bible  was  a  new  book.  Cynewulf,  living  per- 
haps half  a  century  later,  was  a  Christian  scop,  educated 
at  a  monastery.  Not  all  of  his  poems  are  religious,  for 
attributed  to  him  are  many  riddles  in  verse,  a  form  of 
literature  of  which  the  early  English  were  very  fond;  but 


242    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

his  best  poems  are  saintly  legends  or  deal  with  New 
Testament  themes.  The  poems  of  the  Cynewulf  group 
are  more  polished  than  those  of  the  Caedmon  group, 
more  artistic;  they  are  farther  removed irom  the  heathen 
poetry  of  earlier  times — the  times  when  ^Beowulf  and 
similar  poems  were  popular. 

The  next  name  on  the  roll  of  English  writers  is  that  of 
King  Alfred  the  Great,  one  of  the  noblest  figures  of  all 
times,  who  lived  in  the  latter  half  of  the 
Great  eighth  century.    Between  the  days  of  Caed- 

mon and  Cynewulf  and  the  days  of  Alfred 
lies  a  dark  interval  of  civil  war  among  the  petty  kingdoms 
which  had  gradually  formed  out  of  the  English  tribes 
possessing  the  island,  and  of  cruel  invasions  by  the  Danes, 
fierce  "sea-wolves,"  once  neighbors  of  the  EngUsh  in  their 
old  home  on  the  continent,  who  destroyed  monasteries, 
burned  villages,  and  killed  great  numbers.  Learning,  and 
piety  too,  all  but  disappeared.  Conditions  were  not 
greatly  different  from  those  of  a  few  centuries  before  when 
the  fierce  EngHsh  tribes  poured  in  upon  the  more  highly 
civilized  Britons.  We  are  concerned  but  indirectly  with 
all  that  King  Alfred  did  to  deliver  his  country  from  this 
peril,  restore  order,  and  build  up  the  nation  anew;  our 
immediate  interest  is  with  his  efforts  to  bring  back  piety 
and  learning — a  great  task  which  he  accompHshed  but  in 
part.  In  earlier  times,  before  the  Danish  invasions,  the 
monastery  libraries  had  contained  few  save  Latin  books. 
Not  Bede  alone,  but  all  scholars,  on  the  Continent  as  well 
as  in  England,  wrote  and  spoke  Latin.  The  Bible  was  a 
Latin  Bible.  Book  knowledge  was  locked  up  in  a  foreign 
tongue.  It  was  Alfred's  idea  to  change  all  this;  his  people 
should  be  taught  in  their  native  tongue.  Gathering  what 
scholars  he  could  about  him,  he  translated  with  their  aid 
whatever  Latin  books  he  thought  of  value  to  his  coimtry — 


ANGLO-SAXON  PERIOD  243 

several  religious  works,  a  standard  history  of  the  world, 

Bede's   church   history,   and  certain   other   manuals   of 

information.     Perhaps  the  most  important  composition 

of  his  reign,  and  one  in  which  no  doubt  he  had  a  part, 

was  a  compilation,  from  scant  monastery 

,  J       ,,  1  ,  Anglo-Saxon 

records   and   other   sources,  known   to   us    _,,       .  . 

as  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle.  This  is  a 
brief  history  of  England  by  years,  beginning  with  60  B.  C. 
For  some  years  there  are  no  entries;  other  years  are  rep- 
resented by  but  a  few  lines,  the  account  naturall}^  growing 
fuller  as  it  advances  through  the  reign  of  Alfred.  As  lit- 
erature it  is  not  remarkable,  though  some  of  its  prose  is 
fairly  good  and  occasionally  one  finds  in  it  a  spirited  ac- 
count of  some  notable  event,  the  chronicler  at  times  even 
abandoning  prose  for  poetrj^;  but  this  earliest  of  histories 
in  the  Enghsh  tongue  is  of  great  value  none  the  less. 

The  literature  of  Alfred's  day  was  mainly  prose,  as  that 
of  the  earher  times  was  mainly  poetry.    Little  but  prose 
do  we  find  from  his  day  on  through  the 
century  and  a  half  preceding  the  Norman     , 
Conquest  in  1066:  the  Chronicle  continued, 
many  sermons,  and  other  works  for  the  most  part  religious 
in  character. 

What  should  be  our  final  estimate  of  this  period?    When 
we  consider  how  recently  the  English  had  been  but  rough, 

plundering  adventurers,  without  books,  with-    _.    , 

,,.,,,  ,  Final  estimate 

out  schools,  without  even  a  common  lan- 
guage,— for  until  long  after  the  Norman  Conquest  the 
various  sections  of  England  had  their  separate  dialects, — 
we  can  but  feel  that  the  literary  output  was  most  credit- 
able. The  poetry  is  better  than  the  prose,  but  neither 
prose  nor  poetry  is  of  high  artistic  merit  compared  with 
the  masterpieces  of  later  times.  Of  the  poetry,  Beowulf, 
possessing  the  same  strong  spiritual  qualities  that  char- 


244    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

acterize  the  best  in  all  English  verse,  is  easily  most  interest- 
ing; of  the  prose,  certain  passages  in  the  Chronicle.  All 
this  early  literature  is  clean,  serious,  full  of  vigor;  lacking, 
it  is  true,  in  grace  and  humor,  indeed  rather  somber,  it 
seems  to  us,  yet  revealing  a  people  by  nature  brave,  fair- 
minded,  religious,  lovers  of  song,  lovers  of  battle,  a  splen- 
didly endowed  people  who  improved  rapidly  under  the 
sway  of  Christianity  and  Roman  culture.  In  after  cen- 
turies England  came  under  many  influences.  Other  races 
blended  with  the  English.  The  language  changed,  customs 
changed;  yet  the  essential  traits  of  character  which  have 
made  the  English  a  great  people  and  their  literature  a 
great  literature  are  easily  discernible  in  the  literature  of 
this  earliest  period.  That  is  why  the  few  time-worn 
manuscripts  which  have  come  down  to  us  through  a  thou- 
sand years  and  more,  constitute  a  priceless  treasure, — 
priceless  not  because  of  their  literary  merit  but  because  of 
what  they  tell  us  of  the  English  as  they  were  originally  in 
their  new  island  home. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NORMAN-ENGLISH  PERIOD:  1066-1340 

(From  the  Conquest  to  the  birth  of  Chaucer) 

The  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  (Cont.  to 
1154) 

Layamon  (Circ.  1200)    fBrut  (a  legendary  history  of  England) 

Various  writers  Religious    works,    poetry   and   prose: 

homilies,  lives  of  saints,  Bible  para- 
phrases, etc. 

Various  writers  Romances  loosely  translated  from  the 

French 

Unknown  Songs  and  ballads 

England,  during  the  Anglo-Saxon  period,  was  the  home 
of  three  peoples:  the  Britons,  the  English,  and  the  Danes. 
The  Danes,  however,  soon  blended  with  the 
EngUsh  and  we  lose  sight  of  them.     The      ,         , 
Britons,  driven  westward,  remained  a  sep- 
arate people,  though  toward  the  end  of  the  period,  the 
barriers  between  them  and  the  English  weakened  con- 
siderably.   During  the  Norman-Enghsh  period,  the  island 
was  the  home  of  three  peoples:  the  Britons,  found  prin- 
cipally in  Wales,  the  Norman-French,  and  the  EngHsh. 
The  Welsh  Britons  remained  pretty  much  in  the  back- 
ground.   We  could  disregard  them  altogether,  were  it  not 
that  they  contributed  not  a  little,  indirectly,  to  English 
literature.    We  are  mainly  concerned,  however,  with  the 
conquered  English  and  the  conquering  Normans. 

These  Normans  were  a  wonderful  people,  keen,  ener- 
getic, progressive,  with  a  great  genius  for  organizing  and 

245 


246    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

systematizing,  yet  fond  of  gaiety  and  splendor,  and  by  na- 
ture cheerful  and  humor-loving.  Their  barons  soon  appro- 
priated  nearly  all  of  the  land  and  built 
massive  castles  to  hold  it.  Grand  cathe- 
drals were  built  too;  and  hundreds  of  new  monasteries 
sprang  up,  for  the  Normans  were  Christians.  During  all 
this  period  the  church  possessed,  through  its  able  Norman 
bishops  and  abbots,  great  political  power.  As  in  the  ear- 
lier days  of  the  preceding  period,  each  monastery  was 
in  some  measure  a  school,  and  towards  the  close  of  the 
period  schools  not  immediately  connected  with  the  church 
were  taking  shape  at  Cambridge  and  Oxford. 

When  contrasted  with  this  brilliant  people,  the  stolid, 
mentally  slow  EngHsh  seem  at  first  glance  decidedly  in- 
ferior,  and  so  they  were  regarded  by  their 
conquerors,  who  for  a  long  time  kept  them 
in  a  pitiable  state;  yet  their  sterling,  if  not  brilliant,  qual- 
ities which  were  prominent  in  Beowulf  of  old  and  in  wise 
King  Alfred,  gradually  wrought  a  wonder.  Little  by  little 
the  abler  among  them  climbed  upward  and  took  rank  with 
the  best  in  church  and  state.  Gradually,  through  causes 
which  we  cannot  mention  here,  the  two  peoples  came 
closer  and  closer  together  and  finally  fused  into  one,  a 
stronger  people  than  England  had  ever  before  known,  yet 
with  the  fine,  manly  traits  of  the  Anglo-Saxons  still  domi- 
nating. 

England,  during  this  period,  was  the  home  of  several 
languages.  The  earlier  kings  and  their  barons  spoke 
French,  and  French  became  the  accepted 
language  of  the  realm.  All  classes  save  the 
lowest  employed  it — were  forced  to  if  they  would  get  on 
and  up  in  the  world.  It  was  the  language  of  business. 
Children  spoke  it  in  the  schools.  The  minstrels  who  went 
from  castle  to  castle  sang  it.    Those  w^ho  wrote  for  the 


NORMAN-ENGLISH  PERIOD  247 

pleasure  of  their  fellow  men,  both  Norman  writers  and 
English,  employed  it.  But  Latin  was  prominent  too.  It 
w^as  the  language  of  the  Church  and  of  learning,  the  book 
language  employed  by  monks  and  scholars  when  they 
wrote,  and  not  uncommonly  when  they  conversed.  The 
Englishman  who  would  become  educated  must  have  a 
knowledge  of  it.  Beneath  French  and  Latin  lay  English, 
long  despised  and  ridiculed  by  the  upper  classes  and  bidding 
fair  to  disappear  altogether;  yet  behold  a  second  wonder. 
About  the  time  this  period  closes,  EngUsh  is  again  the 
accepted  language  of  the  realm.  Some  Anglo-Saxon  words 
have  disappeared,  many  have  changed  slightly,  but  the 
great  bulk  of  old  words  remains.  This  new  English  is 
permeated,  it  is  true,  with  French  words,  and  Latin  words 
have  crept  in  too;  yet  the  native  speech  is  supremely 
triumphant.  French  disappeared.  Latin  as  a  book  lan- 
guage lingered  for  a  century  or  two,  was  employed  some- 
what by  learned  men  even  as  late  as  Shakespeare's  day, 
yet  eventually  it  also  slipped  away. 

The  Hterature  of  this  period  falls  into  three  groups:  the 
Latin,  the  French,  and  the  English.    Latin,  it  should  be 
remembered,    was    the    book    language    of    The  three 
monks,  scholars,  and  statesmen,  English  as    groups  of 
well  as  Norman.     It  is,  someone  has  said,    literature 
the  language  Macaulay  would  have  used  had  he  lived  at 
the  court  of  Henry  II.     In  this  Latin  group  are  many 
religious  works,  most  of  them  in  prose;  but  more  con- 
spicuous are  histories  or  chronicles,  some  recording  the 
doings  of  this  monastery  or  that,  others  dealing  with  all 
England  and  going  back  to  legendary  days.    These  chron- 
icles are  of  great  interest  to  the  historian,  but  they  are  not 
English,  not  in  the  native  tongue;  so  they,  and  all  other 
works  in  Latin,  may  be  disregarded. 

Norman-French  literature  is  of  greater  importance,  for 


248    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

during  this  period  France  gained  a  literary  prominence  in 
Western  Europe  similar  to  that  which  England  enjoyed  in 
Norman-  the  eighth  century.    Her  greatest  works  were 

French  in  verse.    Among  them  were  scores  upon 

literature  scores  of  extremely  long  poems  recounting 

the  deeds  of  such  long-ago  heroes  as  the  French  King 
Charlemagne,  the  Welsh  King  Arthur,  and  Alexander  the 
Great.  Of  the  hundred  and  more  such  romances  which 
have  come  down  to  us,  the  best  is  the  earliest,  the  Song  of 
Roland,  though  the  most  popular  throughout  the  Middle 
Ages  were  those  which  dealt  with  the  half-mythical  King 
Arthur  and  his  Round  Table  knights.  Besides  these  hero 
romances  there  were  long,  metrical  chronicles,  some  of 
them  based  on  the  Latin  chronicles.  A  third  important 
group  is  made  up  of  songs  and  ballads  of  love  and  adven- 
ture such  as  the  minstrels  sang  everywhere  throughout 
Europe.  But  this  great  volume  of  French  literature  is  not 
English,  though  some  of  it  was  written  in  England  and 
by  men  of  English  birth.  It  deserves  mention  solely  be- 
cause a  considerable  part  of  it  was  absorbed  by  English 
hterature,  much  as  the  French  language  was  absorbed, 
especially  such  of  it  as  dealt  with  English  heroes  and  Eng- 
lish history.  It  provided  models  and  furnished  subject 
matter  for  contemporary  and  later  writers.  For  centuries 
it  was  the  literature  which  English  men  and  women  read 
and  listened  to;  it  not  only  furnished  entertainment  but 
supplied  new  ideas  and  ideals,  changing  the  minds  of 
Englishmen  as  the  Norman  castles  and  monasteries  and 
cathedrals  changed  the  appearance  of  the  English  country. 
The  literature  of  the  period  which  was  written  in  Eng- 
lish is  but  a  tiny  stream  compared  with  the 

ngis     broad  rivers  of  Latin  and  French.    Foracen- 
tong^e 

tury  and  a  half  following  the  Conquest  it  is 

hardly  discernible.     The  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle  was  con- 


NORMAN-ENGLISH  PERIOD  249 

tinued  till  1154,  then  gave  way  to  chronicles  and  histories  in 
Latin  and  French.  About  the  year  1200,  appeared  what  is 
known  as  Layamon's  Brut  or  history.  Layamon  was  a 
priest  living  near  the  border  of  Wales,  who  conceived  the 
idea  of  writing  a  long  poem  telling  the  history  of  England. 
Borrowing  freely  from  works  in  Latin  and  French,  and 
adding  many  tales  and  legends  of  the  Britons,  tales  which 
doubtless  he  had  heard  over  and  over  again  in  his  boyhood 
days,  he  produced  a  poem  of  over  30,000  lines.  He  has 
been  called  the  first  minstrel  to  celebrate  King  Arthur 
in  English  song,  the  same  Arthur  of  whom  we  read  in 
Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the  King. 

Aside  from  Layamon's  Brut,  there  is  not  much  to  delay 
us  in  our  survey  of  the  EngUsh  writings  of  this  period. 
There  is,  to  be  sure,  quite  a  supply  of  reli- 
gious works,  but  with  one  or  two  exceptions  g 
they  are  of  no  great  interest;  and  we  find, 
as  time  goes  on,  many  romantic  poems  paraphrasing  the 
French  hero-romances,  showing  how  French  romance  is 
being  absorbed  just  as  in  the  Brut  we  find  old  Briton  tales 
absorbed.  Guy  of  Warunck  and  Havelok  the  Dane,  English 
romances  with  English  heroes,  though  wrought  in  the 
French  manner,  were  great  favorites,  and  were  long 
cherished.  Finally  we  can  mention  with  pleasure  a  few 
genuinely  English  songs,  which  appear  among  others  of 
less  value  imitated  from  the  French.  As  we  read  these 
simple,  heartfelt  lyrics,  we  easily  yield  to  a  belief  that,  in 
all  probability,  even  in  darkest  days  of  oppression,  the 
English,  as  in  earlier  times,  were  singers  and  song-makers, 
and  that  they  loved  their  own  songs  better  than  the  more 
polished  products  of  foreign  minstrels. 

The  period  may  be  summarized  as  follows :  For  a  century 
and  a  half  following  the  Conquest,  little  was  written  in  the 
native  tongue;  from  then  on,  much  was  written  by  Eng- 


250    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

lishmen  in  Latin  and  French,  but  comparatively  little  in 

English  and  that  little  was  largely  imitative  of  French 

models.     No  great  writers  appeared.     The 
Summary  .  -  .      .  ^  r 

period  IS  an  important  one,  however,  for 

during  it  the  language  changed  greatly  through  absorbing 

many  French  and  Latin  words.    The  long  French  romances 

brought  into  our  literature  a  vast  treasure  of  stories  for 

future  writers  to  retell  with  greater  art,  the  choicest  of 

these  tales  centering  about  the  half-mythical  Briton  hero. 

King  Arthur.    Finally,  through  fusing  with  the  Normans, 

the  Enghsh  became  a  stronger  people,  happily  without  the 

loss  of  the  original  sterhng  qualities  of  the  Anglo-Saxons. 


CHAPTER  XXII 
CHAUCER'S   PERIOD:  1340-1400 

John  Wyclif  1324  (?)-1384  (?)  First  complete  transla- 

tion of  the  Bible 

AVilliam  Langland  1332  (?)-1400  (?)      fVision  concerning  Piers 

Plowman 

Geoffrey  Chaucer  1340-1400  The  Canterbury  Tales 

Unknown  jSongs  and  ballads  of  the 

common  people 

Sixty  years,  a  single  lifetime,  measures  the  extent  of  this 
period.    It  is  therefore  in  marked  contrast  to  the  preceding 
periods,  which,  taken  together,  cover  690 
years,  over  one-half  of  the  span  of  all  English    .  , 

hterature.    It  may  be  thought  of  as  an  oasis 
amid  the  long  reaches  between  the  days  when  Saxon 
warriors  were  thrilled  by  the  story  of  Beowulf  and  the  days 
when  men  crowded  the  Globe  theatre  to  see  Shakespeare's 
plays. 

Wyclif  was  not  a  minstrel  nor  a  monk  but  an  Oxford 
teacher  and  preacher  whose  life  was  one  long  attack  against 
the  Church.     He  has  been  called  ''the  first    „^    ,.^ 

^T  vclif 

champion  of  the  Reformation,"  that  great 
movement  which,  in  later  years,  wrought  a  mighty  change 
in  England  and  led  to  the  establishment  of  a  national 
church  independent  of  Rome.  To  his  behef  that  the 
scriptures  should  no  longer  remain  locked  up  in  Latin  we 
owe  the  first  complete  translation  of  the  Bible  into  Eng- 
Hsh,  a  translation  which,  in  a  revised  version  made  soon? 
after  his  death,  found  its  way  among  all  classes.  Better 
translations,  as  we  shall  see,  were  made  in  later  periods, 

251 


252    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

for  Wyclif  was  not  a  great  literary  artist,  yet  in  his  Bible 
we  find  the  best  prose  thus  far  produced  in  England — 
prose  which  aided  greatly  in  establishing  a  national  lan- 
guage; nor  can  we  easily  estimate  the  great  service  Wyclif 
rendered  to  literature  when  he  made  it  possible,  for  the 
first  time,  for  men  and  women  of  all  classes  to  read  or  hear 
all  of  the  Bible  in  their  native  tongue. 

Side  by  side  with  this  great  reformer  whose  sermons 
and  pamphlets  stirred  all  England,  posterity  has  placed 
a  poverty-stricken  dreamer-poet,  William 
Langland,  so  obscure  an  individual  that 
little  is  known  about  him  except  that  his  boyhood  days 
were  passed  near  the  Welsh  borders  where  probably  he 
received  some  monastery  training,  and  that  after  roaming 
the  country  for  a  time  after  the  manner  of  a  begging  friar 
he  drifted  to  London  and  there  for  many  years  earned  a 
miserable  living  by  chanting  for  the  release  from  purgatory 
of  the  souls  of  dead  men.  His  days,  therefore,  were  spent 
among  the  poor,  and  from  among  them  he  looked  out  upon 
a  world  which  seemed  to  him  sadly  out  of  joint:  church 
and  state  corrupt;  the  rich  tyrannizing  over  the  poor; 
purity,  justice,  and  industry  rarely  met  with.  His  way  of 
righting  the  world  was  to  picture  the  world  as  he  saw  it, 
in  all  its  corruption,  and  to  cry  out  fearlessly  for  much 
needed  reforms.  His  picture-sermon  we  find  in  a  long 
poem,  frequently  added  to  and  reshaped  during  thirty 
years,  known  as  the  Vision  Concerning  Piers  Plowman. 
It  is  an  allegory  in  the  form  of  a  dream,  and  to  the  modem 
reader  it  is  in  some  respects  as  confusing  and  inconsistent 
as  dreams  are  apt  to  be.  But  the  poor  people  of  his  day 
understood  it,  recognized  the  truthfulness  of  the  thinly 
veiled  pictures  of  society  and  the  sincere  earnestness  of  the 
gifted  poet.  It  moved  them  as  the  fiery  pamphlets  of 
Wyclif  stirred  the  better  educated  classes. 


CHAUCER'S  PERIOD  253 

We  may  think  of  Wyclif  and  Langland  as  the  greatest  of 
all  that  long,  unbroken  line  of  writers  on  religious  themes, 
the  earliest  of  whom  are  Caedmon,  Bede, 
and  Cynewulf .  Chaucer,  who  towers  high 
above  them  in  hterary  skill,  belongs  to  an  entirely  different 
class.  This  son  of  a  prosperous  London  merchant  began 
life  as  a  page  in  the  royal  household,  a  bright,  good  na- 
tured  lad  with  a  sense  of  humor  which  made  him,  we  may 
believe,  a  general  favorite.  All  his  days  were  spent  close 
to  that  brilliant  aristocracy  for  which  Langland  had  Httle 
sympathy.  He  became  an  exceedingly  able  man,  was  sent 
abroad  on  embassies,  held  positions  of  trust  at  home,  and 
cHmbed  high  for  one  not  of  noble  birth.  He  was  always  a 
busy  man,  a  tireless  worker.  His  great  passion  was  for 
books  and  the  green  fields,  though  it  should  be  quickly 
added  that  he  was  a  lover  of  mankind  as  well  and  looked 
out  upon  the  world  with  keen  yet  friendly  eyes.  He  seemed 
to  know  all  classes  from  the  nobility  down  to  the  poor 
parish  priests.  Much  of  the  greed  and  misery  that  came 
before  Langland's  eyes  must  have  been  known  to  him,  but 
it  reached  him  softened  somewhat  by  the  glamor  of  that 
courtly  aristocracy  with  which  he  was  associated.  To 
him,  England  was  merry  England. 

Chaucer  was  a  life-long  poet.    In  his  younger  days  he 
was  under  the  spell  of  Norman  minstrelsy,  which  is  not 
strange:  for  French  minstrels  were  still  to  be 
found  at  the  royal  court  and  in  the  homes         , 
of  the  nobility.     The  old  French  romances 
formed  the  popular  literature  of  the  day.    Nearly  all  of 
them,  during  the  thirteenth  and  fourteenth  century,  were 
turned  into  EngHsh  verse;  but  Chaucer  doubtless  preferred 
them  in  their  original  form.    Later  he  was  more  deeply 
influenced  by  ItaUan  literature,  which  about  this  time 
reached  its  highest  level  in  three  world-great  writers. 


254    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

Chaucer's  best  work,  however,  written  toward  the  close 
of  his  Hfe,  is  thoroughly  English.  The  Canterbury  Tales 
is  a  collection  of  stories  which  Chaucer  makes  fall  from 
the  lips  of  a  merry  company  of  EngHsh  folk  journeying 
to  Canterbury  to  pray  at  the  shrine  of  Thomas  a  Becket. 
Chance  brings  them  together  at  the  Tabard  Inn  at  South- 
wark,  on  the  outskirts  of  London.  The  jolly  landlord 
offers  to  accompany  them  as  guide,  and  proposes  that,  to 
make  the  journey  the  pleasanter,  each  of  the  nine-and- 
twenty  tell  four  tales,  two  on  the  way  to  Canterbury  and 
two  returning,  the  best  story-teller  to  be  given  a  supper, 
paid  for  by  the  rest.  Chaucer  lived  to  complete  less  than 
one-fourth  the  number  of  stories  called  for  by  this  scheme, 
but  the  uncompleted  work  is  one  of  our  rarest  master- 
pieces. The  tales  are  not  of  equal  merit;  some  are  too 
broadly  humorous,  too  coarse,  to  meet  the  approval  of 
modern  taste.  But  the  best  of  them  are  very,  very  good. 
The  poet's  art  is  seen  to  greatest  advantage,  perhaps,  in 
the  Prologue  to  the  Tales,  where  each  pilgrim  is  introduced 
by  a  description  so  vivid  that  he  seems  Hke  a  real  person; 
and  since  the  company  represents  all  classes  of  society, 
from  knight,  monk,  and  prioress  down  to  merchant,  mil- 
ler, and  seaman,  the  Prologue  is  like  a  mirror  in  which  we 
see  reflected  the  hfe  of  the  times.  Collections  of  tales  were 
common  throughout  Europe,  during  the  Middle  Ages,  but 
there  are  none  which  we  would  less  wiUingly  part  with  than 
that  made  by  gentle  Geoffrey  Chaucer,  lover  of  books  and 
green  fields  and  human  nature,  a  born  story-teller,  the  mel- 
ody of  whose  verse,  once  caught,  can  never  be  forgotten. 
A  more  detailed  survey  of  this  period  would  mention 

other  writers — Gower,  for  example,  a  popu- 
wr't  rs  ^^^  P^^^  whose  works  are  of  interest  because 

the  first  was  written  in  French,  the  second 
in  Latin,  the  third  in  English,  showing  the  drift  of  Ian- 


CHAUCER'S  PERIOD  255 

guage  development;  and  the  unknown  author  of  Sir  Ga~ 
waine  and  the  Green  Knight,  an  Arthurian  tale  from  Nor- 
man minstrelsy,  yet  so  retold  that  it  is  thoroughly  English. 
It  is  the  best  of  all  tales  taken  from  the  French.  One  of 
the  most  popular  books  of  the  day,  of  Continental  origin 
but  soon  translated  into  English,  was  The  Voyages  and 
Travels  of  Sir  John  Mandeville,  sl  most  entertaining  volume 
purporting  to  be  designed  for  the  enlightenment  of  pilgrims 
journeying  to  Holy  Land,  yet  so  full  of  preposterous  infor- 
mation as  'Ho  stamp  the  author  as  a  fraud  or  a  humorist." 
Nor  should  we  forget  that  songs  and  ballads  continue  to 
be  made  and  sung  by  the  common  people. 

Perhaps  the  most  essential  thing  to  bear  in  mind  con- 
cerning this  period  is  that  its  best  literature  is  unmistak- 
ably English  in  tone.  Chaucer  borrowed 
material  from  Continental  sources,  partic-  ch^acteristic 
ularly  from  Italy,  but  the  setting  for  his 
Canterbury  Tales  is  English,  his  pilgrims  are  English  folk. 
Dream  literature  was  common  throughout  Europe,  but 
Langland's  dream-satire  is  directed  against  English  soci- 
ety. The  Bible,  in  Latin,  had  long  been  in  the  hands  of 
monks  throughout  Christendom;  but  Wyclif  made  it  a 
part  of  English  literature.  Moreover  his  fearless  contro- 
versial tracts  and  sermons  suggest  the  grim  valor  of  the 
Anglo-Saxon  warrior.  Norman  romances  in  English  dress 
were  popular,  but  the  author  of  Sir  Gawaine  was  no  servile 
imitator.  In  short  the  traits  of  character  which  marked 
the  English  of  Beowulf's  day  still  show  strong  and  unim- 
paired after  the  long  period  of  foreign  rule. 

As  for  the  language  in  which  this  best  literature  is  writ- 
ten, it  too  is  EngHsh,  not  quite  fixed,  for  it  is  still  in  a  state 
of  flux,  but  with  nearly  all  the  old  words  showing  strong 
among  the  new.  It  is  much  easier  to  read  than  Anglo- 
Saxon,  though  still  sufficiently  strange  to  necessitate  the 


256    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

use  of  a  glossary.  Could  we  listen  to  Wyclif  or  Langland 
or  Chaucer,  we  should  understand  but  little  that  was  said. 

Yet  Chaucer's  English  is  substantially  mod- 
changes  ^^^'  though  thousands  of  new  words  have 

come  into  our  language  since  his  day  and 
not  a  few  have  dropped  out  because  no  longer  needed, 
or  because  supplanted  by  other  and  better  ones. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

CAXTON'S  PERIOD:   1400-1500 

Sir  Thomas  Malory      °Morte  d'Arthur  (printed  1485) 
Unknown  fPop^l^r  songs  and  ballads 

(Caxton,  England's  first  printer,  sets  up  his  press  in  1476.) 

A  detailed  account  of  this  period  would  mention  a  num- 
ber of  poets  who  reached  some  degree  of  eminence  in  the 

eyes   of  their   contemporaries;   our  briefer 

.,      ,  1  u    £      J.U  '  1  Followers  of 

survey  omits  them  all,  tor  their  works  are    ^. 

seldom  read  today.     We  can  but  note,  in 
passing,  that  the  best  of  these  poets  were  Scotchmen,  and 
that  all  were  imitators  of  Chaucer,  whom  they  recognized 
as  towering  above  them,  the  one  great  poet  that  England 
had  produced.     More  genuine  than  the  works  of  any 
of  these  are  the  simple  ballads  sung  by  the 
common  people — Robin  Hood,  Chevy  Chase, 
etc.,  such  as  have  been  noted  in  earlier  periods.    They  will 
not  be  mentioned  again,  yet  it  should  be  borne  in  mind 
that  they  are  found  even  as  late  as  the  eighteenth  century, 
though  diminishing  in  number  and  in  favor  as  printed 
books  become  more  common.    They  form'a  distinct  lit- 
erature by  themselves,  anonymous,  undated,  but  worthy 
of  the  loving  study  bestowed  upon  them  of  late  years. 

Much  prose  was  written  during  this  period,  most  of  it 
religious  or  theological,  of  slight  literary  value.    We  could 
easily  spare  it  all  save  one  priceless  volume,    ^ 
a  collection  of  stories  gleaned  from  the  long 
poem-romances  of  earlier  periods,  concerning  King  Arthur 
and  his  Round  Table  knights,  written  in  simple,  artless, 

257 


258    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

smooth-flowing  prose  quite  easy  to  understand.  It  is  the 
most  permanent  contribution  of  Norman  minstrelsy  to 
Enghsh  hterature,  and  a  very  great  one;  for  it  is  a  collec- 
tion of  tales  unsurpassed,  preserving  for  all  time  the  best 
group  of  stories  in  nlediseval  romance.  It  has  been  called  a 
prose  epic,  since  its  central  figure  is  a  national  hero  from 
the  half-mythical  days  of  the  early  Britons. 

One  reason  for  the  unproductiveness  of  this  century  may 
be  found  in  the  rapid  decline  of  that  feudal  system  which 
.  reached  its  highest  development  under  the 

feudaUystem  Norman-French  kings— a  system  which 
placed  great  power  in  the  hands  of  the  nobles 
and  made  them  an  aristocracy  far  above  the  common 
people.  They  had  been  patrons  of  learning  and  literature, 
the  class  w^hom  poets  sought  to  please  with  their  verses 
and  from  whom  they  hoped  to  receive  reward.  Even  in 
Chaucer's  day  feudalism  was  tottering,  though  knightly 
deeds  on  the  field  of  battle,  and  the  gaiety  of  court  life, 
furnished  an  outward  splendor  which  has  been  compared 
most  aptly  to  an  Indian  summer.  During  the  fifteenth 
century  the  long  war  with  France,  and  the  War  of  the  Roses 
which  followed  it,  still  further  weakened  this  once  powerful 
aristocracy,  not  a  few  noble  families  being  practically 
obliterated.  Meanwhile  the  more  numerous  middle  class 
was  rapidly  gaining  prominence,  but  its  members  could 
not  in  a  day,  nor  in  a  century,  give  the  support  to  literature 
that  had  once  been  furnished  by  knighthood,  nor  could 
poets  at  once  adapt  themselves  to  new  ideals. 

A  second  reason  is  found  in  the  continued  decline  of  the 
mediaeval  church  system,  highly  organized  and  extremely 
Decline  of  powerful  in  earlier  times,  but  growing  weaker 
mediaeval  and  weaker.     Since  the  days  of  Caedmon 

church  r^nd  Bede,  a  large  proportion  of  the  writers, 

and  practically  all  scholars,  had  been  monks  or  in  some  way 


CAXTON'S  PERIOD  259 

connected  with  the  church  system.  The  monasteries  had 
been  centers  of  learning  and  culture.  In  their  scriptoria 
(writing  rooms)  skilled  penmen  had  multiplied  such  works 
as  were  in  demand  by  the  limited  class  of  readers.  But 
during  the  latter  half  of  this  period  scholarship  seems  to 
be  leaving  the  protecting  shadow  of  the  church,  where  per- 
haps it  has  lingered  too  long,  for  the  rapidly  developing 
colleges  at  Oxford  and  Cambridge.  Eventually  the  trans- 
ference will  prove  advantageous,  resulting  in  broader 
scholarship  and  better  Hterature;  but  the  harvest  is  not  yet. 
In  connection  with  the  increasing  popularity  of  the  uni- 
versities and  the  establishing  of  a  number  of  what  we 
should  call  preparatory  schools,  it  should  be 
noted  that  during  the  second  half  of  this  j. 
century  many  studious  young  Englishmen 
from  good  families  were  finding  their  way  to  Italy  and 
there  coming  under  the  influence  of  what  is  known  as  the 
New  Learning,  which  was  to  become  a  great  power  in  Eng- 
land. Italy,  during  this  century,  was  the  intellectual  cen- 
ter of  western  Europe,  as  France  had  been  in  the  twelfth 
century,  and  England,  for  a  brief  time,  in  Anglo-Saxon 
days.  The  Italians  had  become  greatly  interested  in  Latin 
literature.  Latin  manuscripts  which  had  long  lain  neg- 
lected in  monastery  libraries  were  eagerly  collected  and 
copied  by  zealous  scholars,  fascinated  by  the  vigor  and  the 
beauty  of  the  old  Roman  writers.  They  became  deeply 
interested  in  Greek  literature  too,  and  great  numbers 
of  manuscripts  were  imported  from  Greece,  Asia  Minor, 
and  elsewhere.  Greek  scholars,  especially  after  the  fall  of 
Constantinople  in  1453,  flocked  to  Italy  and  became 
teachers.  Thus  the  ancient  world  of  Greece  and  Rome 
was  brought  back  to  Italy;  the  hterature  of  Greece  and  of 
Rome  was  studied  and  greatly  admired;  mediaeval  lit- 
erature   slipped    out  of  mind.      It  is,  then,  to  an  Italy 


260    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

carried  away  by  its  interest  in  Greek  and  Roman  classics, 
that  young  Englishmen  went.  They  too  were  fired  with 
enthusiasm  for  this  New  Learning,  and  returning  to  Eng- 
land with  copies  of  precious  manuscripts,  communicated 
their  enthusiasm  to  others.  The  old  learning  of  the  monas- 
tic schools,  so  powerful  throughout  the  Middle  Ages,  soon 
became  a  thing  of  the  past. 

We  have  named  this  period  after  England's  first  printer, 
William  Caxton,  who  set  up  his  press  probably  in  1476 
and  during  the  remaining  fifteen  years  of 
his  life  printed  over  seventy  books,  among 
them  Chaucer's  Canterbury  Tales  and  Malory's  Morte 
d' Arthur.  He  was  not  a  great  author,  though  the  pref- 
aces which  accompany  some  of  his  publications  show 
that  he  wrote  unusually  good  Enghsh;  but  he  deserves  a 
prominent  place  in  the  history  of  English  literature.  For 
eight  long  centuries  all  books  had  been  penned  by  hand; 
they  had  been  a  luxury  for  the  rich.  Now,  at  a  time  when 
schools  and  colleges  were  springing  up  and  there  was  prom- 
ise of  a  great  increase  in  the  number  of  readers,  at  a  time 
too  when  the  New  Learning  was  intensely  interesting 
scholars,  from  among  whom  there  were  sure  to  come 
writers,  this  cheaper  method  of  book-making  appears. 
Some  authorities  name  1453,  the  date  of  the  fall  of  Con- 
stantinople, as  the  concluding  year  of  the  Middle  Ages; 
others  prefer  1492,  the  date  of  the  discovery  of  America. 
So  far  as  the  history  of  English  literature  is  concerned, 
we  might  well  set  aside  both  these  dates  and  select  1477, 
the  year  in  which  the  Dictes  and  Sayings  of  the  Philosophers, 
the  first  book  printed  in  England,  came  from  the  press  of 
William  Caxton. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

PRE-ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD:   1500-1564 

Sir  Thomas  More  1480-1535        °Utopia  (first  written  in  Latin) 
William  Tyndale  1485  (?)-1536       New  Testament  (translated 

from  the  Greek) 
Sir  Thomas  Wyatt  1503-1542        fPoems  some  of  which  are  in 
Eari  of  Surrey  1517  (?)-1547  (?)         blank    verse    and    sonnet 

form,   later   published   in 
TotteVs  Miscellany 
Nicholas  Udall  1504  (?)-1556         Ralph  Roister  Bolster  (first 

regular     comedy,     acted 
about  1535) 
Thomas  Sackville  1536-1608  Gorboduc,    or    Ferrex    and 

Thomas  Norton  1532-1584  Porrex  (first  regular  trag- 

edy, 1561) 

The  fifteenth  century  produced  but  one  book  that  is  read 
nowadays,  the  Morte  d^ Arthur;  up  to  the  birth  of  Shake- 
speare in  1564,  the  sixteenth  century  pro-  ^ 
duced  but  one,  the  Utopia.  Sir  Thomas  ^.  . 
More  was  one  of  the  young  men  who  were 
fortunate  enough  to  study  imder  the  greatest  of  that  re- 
markable group  of  scholars  who,  in  the  closing  years  of  the 
fifteenth  century,  made  Oxford  famous  by  their  teaching  of 
Latin  and  Greek.  He  too  became  a  great  scholar,  early 
gained  prominence  as  a  lawyer,  and  was  eventually  made 
Lord  Chancellor;  finally,  because  he  adhered  courageously 
to  high  moral  principles,  he  gave  up  his  life  at  the  execu- 
tioner's block,  a  very  conmion  ending  to  a  life-story 
in  those  days.  The  Utopia,  a  small  volume  compared  to 
the  bulky  Morte  d^  Arthur ,  is  a  great  statesman-philosopher's 
dream  of  what  he  thought  England  should  be.    It  tells 

261 


262    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

of  an  ideal  commonwealth  on  an  imaginary  island  vaguely 
located  somewhere  between  the  coasts  of  South  America 
and  Africa.  The  account  is  supposed  to  come  from 
a  traveler  who  has  been  there  and  who  tells  in  detail 
how  the  country  is  governed  and  what  are  the  customs 
of  the  inhabitants.  Some  of  More's  ideas  are  so  impracti- 
cable that  Utopian  has  come  to  mean  visionary;  yet  not  a 
few  of  his  reforms  have  long. since  been  carried  out,  and 
others  of  them  begin  to  look  less  strange. 

The   Utopia,  we   may  believe,  would  not  have  been 
written  had  the  New  Learning  never  reached  England. 

Wyatt  and  Surrey  appear  in  our  table  not 
y^    ^^  because  they  are  great  poets  whose  works 

we  read  today  but  because  they  too  came 
under  the  spell  of  Italy.  The  poems  of  these  two  courtiers 
were  not  printed  till  after  both  were  dead;  we  find  them 
in  a  little  collection  of  poems  (such  collections  were  be- 
coming common)  published  by  a  Mr.  Tottel.  They  de- 
serve attention  for  two  reasons.  First,  they  show  that  the 
study  of  Italian  poetry  and  the  writing  of  verses  in  imita- 
tion of  Italian  models  is  becoming  popular  with  the  court 
aristocracy.  Wyatt  has  been  called  the  first  patrician  to 
make  his  mark  in  Enghsh  poetry.  Second,  in  this  little 
Miscellany  of  Tottel's  we  find  for  the  first  time  specimens 
of  blank  verse  and  of  the  sonnet,  both  of  Italian  origin, — 
forms  which  from  this  time  on  play  an  important  part  in 
English  poetry. 

Tyndale's  New  Testament  was  but  one  of  many  versions 
of  the  Bible  in  part  or  in  whole  that  appeared  during  this 

period.     It  is  the  best  of  them  all,  though 

the  most  popular  was  the  Great  Bible,  so 
called  because  of  its  size  and  sumptuous  appearance. 
Copies  of  it  were  placed  in  every  church ;  and  at  times,  we 
are  told,  men  neglected  the  service  to  read  it,  so  great  was 


PRE-ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD  263 

the  interest  it  aroused.  But  the  version  of  the  Bible  with 
which  we  are  famiHar,  and  which  made  such  a  lasting  im- 
pression on  English  literature,  belongs  not  to  this  period 
but  to  the  next.  These  earlier  versions  are  important, 
however,  in  that  they  prepared  the  way  for  a  better  trans- 
lation later  on. 

Perhaps  the  most  significant  of  all  the  works  mentioned 
in  the  table  are  Ralph  Roister  Doister  and  Gorboduc,  the 
first  regular  comedy  and  the  first  regular    First  regular 
tragedy.      They   are    crude   affairs,    partic-    comedy  and 
ularly  the  latter,  yet  entitled  to  consider-    tragedy 
ation  because  they  are  the  forerunners  of  the  comedies  and 
tragedies  of  Shakespeare's  day — the  feeble  beginning  of 
regular  English  drama.    It  is  not  right,  however,  to  think 
that  English  drama  began  at  this  time,  for  plays  of  a  sort, 
highly  satisfactory  to  those  who  witnessed  them,  were 
given  at  least  five  hundred  years  earlier. 

We  have  noted  several  times  how  much  English  lit- 
erature owes  to  the  church  of  the  Middle  Ages.  It  should 
not  surprise  us  therefore  to  learn  that  the 
earliest  Enghsh  plays  were  religious,  were 
composed  and  acted  by  priests,  and  were  given  in  the 
churches.  The  church  service,  it  should  be  remembered, 
was  conducted  in  Latin,  the  Bible  was  a  Latin  Bible,  and 
few  of  those  who  attended  service  understood  any  language 
save  their  own.  How  natural,  therefore,  that  in  a  desire 
to  acquaint  their  congregations  with  the  Scriptures,  the 
priests  should  resort  to  acting  out  Bible  narratives  in  simple 
fashion,  and  that  sooner  or  later  all  the  Bible  stories  should 
be  presented  in  dramatic  form,  at  first  in  Latin  and  finally 
in  English. 

Although  the  Miracle  plays,  as  they  are  called,  were 
given  at  first  in  the  churches,  as  they  increased  in  popular- 
ity and  larger  crowds  were  attracted  to  them  they  were 


264    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

given  in  churchyards,  and  finally  on  village  greens  and  at 
street  corners.  By  this  time,  however,  the  Miracle  plays 
had  passed  out  of  the  hands  of  priests  and  into  the  hands 
of  the  labor  guilds  or  unions.  Thus  not  only  the  church 
but  the  rapidly  rising  merchant  class  have  a  share  in  the 
development  of  the  drama.  Each  guild  made  a  specialty 
of  one  play,  and  great  was  the  rivalry  among  guilds. 

Out  of  the  Miracle  play  grew  what  is  called  the  Moral- 
ity. The  Morality  does  not  tell  a  Bible  story;  yet,  as  the 
name  suggests,  its  purpose  is  to  teach  a 
moral  lesson.  Vice,  Gluttony,  Mercy,  Jus- 
tice, Death,  Mankind  are  among  the  characters  found, 
each  play  being  a  little  allegory  picturing  the  struggle  of 
the  soul  in  the  great  conflict  between  right  and  wrong. 

A  third  early  variety,  the  Interlude,  takes  us  not  to  the 
great  churches,  nor  to  the  guilds  of  the  prospering  middle 
-      .   ,  classes,  but  to  the  homes  of  the  nobles,  the 

feudal  aristocracy.  The  Interlude  was  hardly 
more  than  a  dialogue,  sometimes  accompanied  by  music, 
coming  between  the  courses  at  a  banquet.  Its  purpose 
was  simply  to  make  folks  merry. 

Thus  early  EngUsh  drama  is  principally  of  native  origin ; 
it  owes  not  a  little,  however,  to  the  New  Learning.  When, 
Drama  and  in  the  fifteenth  century,  the  classics  were 
New  being  studied  with  such  enthusiasm,  what 

Learning  more  natural  than  that  schoolmasters  should 

have  their  boys  learn  and  present,  in  the  schoolroom, 
Latin  comedies,  first  in  the  original,  and  later  in  English. 
Latin  tragedies  were  given  too.  And  from  presenting 
Latin  plays  how  natural  the  step  to  the  writing  of  plays 
patterned  after  Latin  models.  Gorhoduc,  the  first  regular 
tragedy,  though  its  plot  is  based  upon  a  British  legend,  is 
patterned  after  a  Latin  model;  so  too  is  Ralph  Roister 
Doister, 


PRE-ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD  265 

Although  this  brief  period  produced  so  httle  that  is  of 
permanent  value,  we  can  see  how  it  was  preparatory  in 
many   ways   to    the    brilliant    Elizabethan 
period.     Drama  is  passing  through  its  ex-  ^  .. 

perimental  stages.  Blank  verse,  the  ve- 
hicle of  Shakespeare's  comedies  and  tragedies,  and  the 
sonnet,  a  form  in  which  much  of  the  best  Elizabethan 
poetry  is  cast,  are  being  acclimatized.  The  many  trans- 
lations of  the  Scripture  are  preparing  the  way  for  the  noble 
King  James  version.  We  note,  moreover,  that  scholars 
from  the  universities  are  entering  the  arena  of  letters,  and 
that  courtiers  are  winning  laurels  by  writing  verses.  Lit- 
erature is  becoming  popular  at  court. 


CHAPTER  XXV 
THE   ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD:   1564-1625 

John  Lyly  1553-1606  °Euphues 

Sir  Philip  Sidney  1554-1586  °Arcadia,  Sonnets 

Lord  Bacon  1561-1626  Essays 

Scholarly  divines  King  James  version  of  the 

Bible  (1611) 
Edmund  Spenser  1552-1599  fThe  Fserie  Queene,  Sonnets 

George  Chapman  1559  (?)-1634       {Translation    of    the    Iliad, 

plays 
Many  courtly  writers  thongs  and  sonnets 

Christopher  Marlowe  1564-1593      Edward   Second,   Tambur- 

laine 
William  Shakespeare  1564-1616     Thirty-five  plays,  sonnets 
Ben  Jonson  1573-1637  The  Alchemist,  many  court 

masques 

But  few  times  in  all  the  world's  history  has  any  country- 
experienced  such  a  golden  age  as  that  which  England  en- 
joyed during  the  reigns  of  Elizabeth  and 
James  the  First,  commonly  termed  the 
Elizabethan  Age.  It  is  all  the  more  wonderful  because  it 
came  practically  unheralded.  Previous  to  Spenser  and 
Shakespeare,  England  had  produced  but  one  great  poet, 
Chaucer,  and  but  two  prose  writers  whose  works  are  still 
read,  Malory  and  More.  Crude  and  elementary,  giving 
little  promise  of  better  things,  are  the  religious  plays  of  the 
Middle  Ages  and  even  the  early  examples  of  regular  com- 
edy and  tragedy.  As  for  songs,  the  best  that  we  have 
found  are  the  ballads  of  the  common  people,  simple,  un- 
literary  products.  We  have  found  no  trace  of  the  novel  or 
the  essay.  Yet  during  the  Elizabethan  period  England 
teemed"  with  writers,  and  practically  every  form  of  lit- 

266 


THE  ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD  267 

erature  that  we  have  today  was  ably  represented.  This 
was  the  age  that  produced  Spenser,  Bacon,  Shakespeare. 
They  are  the  giants;  yet  one  authority  mentions  over  two 
hundred  others  associated  with  this  great  literary  trio, 
and  a  second  authority  estimates  that  it  would  take  from 
forty  to  fifty  volumes  of  some  size  to  accommodate  what- 
ever of  Ehzabethan  drama  alone  has  survived  and  is 
worthy  of  study.  Practically  one-fourth  of  the  poems 
found  in  Palgrave's  Golden  Treasury  of  Songs  and  Lyrics, 
selected  from  all  English  literature,  are  songs  and  lyrics 
from  Elizabethan  writers. 

Manifestly,  where  so  much  invites  attention,  a  brief 
summary  can  but  pick  out  here  and  there  a  representative 
name.  Prose  will  be  considered  first,  no  attempt  being 
made  to  preserve  a  chronological  sequence. 

Of  all  the  prose  written  during  this  period,  two  volumes 
only  are  in  common  circulation  today  and  are  admittedly 
classics  of  the  first  order.  By  far  the  greater 
is  what  we  know  as  the  Authorized,  or  King 
James,  version  of  the  Bible,  made  at  royal  request,  by 
forty  or  more  scholarly  divines  who  based  their  transla- 
tions largely  on  the  many  versions,  beginning  with  Tyn- 
dale's,  which  had  appeared  during  the  preceding  century. 
Setting  aside  one  or  two  revisions  of  quite  recent  times,  it 
is  the  last  of  that  long  line  of  scriptural  translations  which 
began  far  back  in  Anglo-Saxon  days  when  Bede,  on  his 
death  bed,  dictated  to  his  fellow  monks  the  last  words  of 
a  translation  from  the  Latin  of  the  Gospel  according  to 
St.  John.  It  marks  the  final  triumphal  entrance  into 
our  literature  of  essentially  all  the  literature  of  the  an- 
cient Jewish  people,  produced  during  a  period  not  greatly 
different  in  extent  from  that  of  our  own  literary  history. 
Wonderful  in  its  original  form,  admirably  translated  into 
clear,  simple,  melodious  English  at  a  time  when  our  Ian- 


268    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

guage  was  most  vigorous,  it  has  become  our  greatest  classic, 
the  one  book  which  more  than  any  other  has  moulded  na- 
tional character.  Its  strong,  beautiful  prose  has  been  a 
model  consciously  or  unconsciously  followed  by  all  writ- 
ers from  Shakespeare's  time  down  to  the  present. 

The  second  book  is  a  small  volume  containing  fifty  or 
sixty  essays  varying  in  length  from  two  pages  to  ten  or 
twelve,  by  a  prominent  lawyer  of  Elizabeth's 
day,  who  in  King  James's  reign  climbed  high 
and  rapidly,  reached  the  summit  of  his  great- 
ness as  Lord  Chancellor,  and  then,  when  living  in  great 
state,  the  foremost  judge  in  all  England,  was  accused  of 
accepting  bribes,  was  speedily  convicted,  heavily  fined,  and 
driven  from  public  life.  Bacon  considered  his  essays  of 
slight  value  beside  his  ten  or  more  other  works,  in  the 
fields  of  law,  history,  and  science,  most  of  which  he  trans- 
lated into  Latin  that  they  might  endure  through  all  time 
in  what  he  believed  to  be  the  only  permanent  language; 
yet  the  volume  left  to  its  fate  in  English  has  survived  all 
the  rest.  These  essays  deal  with  such  topics  as  truth, 
friendship,  revenge,  cunning,  death.  Each  is  a  compact 
assembly  of  thoughts  and  opinions  tersely  expressed  in 
smooth,  brilliant  sentences,  many  of  them  so  to  the  point 
that,  once  read,  they  cling  to  the  memory.  The  King 
James  Bible  marks  the  close  of  a  long  life  of  scriptural 
translations;  Bacon's  Httle  book  stands  at  the  beginning 
of  a  long  line  of  essays  reaching  to  the  present  day. 

Below  these  two  books  range  many  other  prose  works  in 
various  fields.    We  have  not  ventured  to  include  in  our 
table  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  History  of  the 
works  Worlds  written  during  his  fourteen  years 

of  imprisonment  in  the  Tower.  It  begins 
bravely  with  the  Creation;  one  hundred  and  fifty  pages 
or  so  barely  take  the  reader  beyond  the  Garden  of  Eden; 


THE  ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD  269 

and  Raleigh  lived  to  bring  his  colossal  undertaking  down 
only  to  168  B.  C.  EHzabethans  were  fond  of  great  under- 
takings. Another  work  of  perhaps  deeper  interest  to 
modern  readers  is  what  is  loosely  termed  Hakluyt's  Voy- 
ages.  Hakluyt  made  it  his  life  work  to  collect  and  edit 
unpubhshed  accounts  of  voyages  of  exploration  and  dis- 
covery. His  books  were  popular  in  EHzabethan  days; 
we  are  beginning  to  think  them  interesting  reading. 
Hooker's  Laws  of  Ecclesiastical  Polity  is  hardly  a  work  to 
attract  the  young;  yet  it  is,  in  a  sense,  still  a  standard 
treatise,  its  grave,  stately  style  almost  inexpHcable  when 
we  learn  that  Hooker  was  but  an  obscure,  diffident  clergy- 
man, almost  a  failure  as  a  preacher. 

The  prose  most  widely  read  in  Elizabeth's  day,  though 
it  has  long  since  been  ecHpsed,  almost  forgotten  save  by 
scholars,  comes  under  the  head  of  fiction. 
Great  numbers  of  short  stories  and  novel- 
ettes, some  in  the  original  French  and  Italian,  and  many 
translated  from  these  languages,  found  a  ready  sale  at 
London  bookstalls.  We  might  mention  quite  a  number  of 
EngUsh  writers,  most  of  them  dramatists  as  well,  who 
dabbled  in  prose  story-telling.  Most  eminent  in  this  little 
crowd  are  Lyly  and  Sidney,  the  former  an  Oxford  graduate 
who,  when  a  young  man,  took  England  by  storm  with  his 
Euphues;  the  second  the  most  popular,  scholarly  courtier 
of  his  day,  pattern  of  chivalric  good  breeding,  whose 
Arcadia,  written  during  banishment  from  court  by  Eliza- 
beth whom  he  had  offended,  was  almost  equally  popular 
when  published  soon  after  the  entire  nation  mourned  his 
early  death. 

As  we  turn  the  pages  of  Lyly's  slender  volume,  we  are  at 
a  loss  to  understand  why  it  should  have  become  the  most 
popular  book  of  the  hour.  The  love  story  which  furnishes 
the  semblance  of  a  plot  is  of  little  interest.    Most  of  the 


270    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

book,  and  this  is  equally  true  of  its  sequel  published  a  year 
later,  is  given  up  to  dissertations  on  love,  rehgion,  educa- 
tion, etc.    That  which  gives  it  distinction  is 
X<vlv's 

Euohues  ^^^  ^^  much  the  subject  matter  as  the  lan- 

guage— alliterative,  each  sentence  neatly  bal- 
anced, simile  following  simile  in  rapid  succession,  a  sort  of 
poetic  prose  which  so  took  the  fancy  that  courtiers  quickly 
adopted  it,  and  it  became  a  fad  to  talk  in  this  same  arti- 
ficial, sugared  EngUsh.  Just  as  from  Utopia  came 
Utopian,  so  from  Euphues  came  euphuistic. 
/     ,.  The  Arcadia  is  a  thick  volume — equivalent 

to  not  far  from  1,000  pages  of  the  size  popu- 
lar today — a  stupendous,  loosely  constructed  romance  in 
which  knights  and  ladies,  kings  and  queens,  and  shepherds 
and  shepherdesses  figure,  a  confusing  number  of  them  made 
still  more  confusing  because  so  many  characters  go  about 
disguised.  It  is  full  of  romantic  adventure,  with  incidents 
enough  to  supply  a  score  of  modern  romances,  all  mirroring 
Sir  Philip's  ideals  of  chivalric  knighthood,  and  written  in 
poetic,  though  not  euphuistic,  prose,  with  many  poems 
interspersed.  Few  have  the  patience  to  read  it  through; 
yet  it  is,  like  the  Morte  d^ Arthur,  a  rich  treasure  house  from 
which  later  writers  have  borrowed. 

The  greatest  glory  of  Ehzabethan  literature  is  not  its 
prose,  however,  over  which  we  have  lingered  too  long. 
Turning  now  to  its  poetry,  we  may  note 
.  °?^  first  of  all  the  variety  and  richness  of  its 

songs  and  sonnets.  Everybody  seems  to  be 
singing.  It  is  the  fashion  at  court  to  compose  lyrics.  We 
find  beautiful  songs  scattered  through  the  dramas.  Tottel's 
Miscellany  was  the  first  of  a  number  of  similar  collec- 
tions in  which  fugitive  lyrics  are  preserved.  Scarcely  an 
author  of  note  in  all  this  period  but  wrote  songs,  a  large 
number  of  them  beautiful  gems  such  as  we  do  not  meet 


THE  ELIZABETHAN   PERIOD  271 

with  today.  By  far  the  greater  number  of  these  short 
pieces  have  love  as  their  theme.  It  was  quite  the  custom- 
ary thing  to  sing  the  praise  of  one's  ladylove  in  a  series  of 
sonnets.  Shakespeare  wrote  154,  some  of  which  were  ad- 
dressed to  a  dark-haired  beauty  to  us  unknown.  Sidney 
wrote  sonnets.  One  of  the  most  beautiful  series  is  the 
Amoretti  of  Edmund  Spenser,  in  which  we  trace  the  court- 
ship which  terminated  in  his  marriage,  which  he  celebrated 
in  the  most  beautiful  nuptial  poem  in  the  language. 

Spenser,  already  mentioned  as  one  of  the  three  supremely 
great  writers  of  the  day,  is  the  earliest  of  Elizabethan  poets. 
When,  a  young  man,  just  out  of  college,  he 
published  his  Shepherd's  Calendar  (twelve 
pastoral  poems,  one  for  each  month  in  the  year)  it  was 
recognized  at  once  that  a  great  poet,  the  first  since  Chau- 
cer, had  appeared.  He  longed  to  be  associated  intimately 
with  court  Ufe,  but  he  never  quite  succeeded  in  winning 
the  Queen's  favor.  His  hfe  was  spent  for  the  most  part 
in  wild,  rebellious  Ireland,  where  eventually  his  services 
won  for  him  the  forfeited  manor  and  castle  of  Kilcolman. 
Here  he  began  his  masterpiece.  The  Fcerie  Queene,  but 
half  of  which  was  finished  when,  years  later,  he  died,  poor 
and  heartbroken,  probably  in  a  London  tavern.  This  half, 
however,  is  twice  as  long  as  Paradise  Lost.  The  plan  of  the 
work  is  as  follows:  Twelve  knights,  each  personifying  a 
manly  virtue — holiness,  temperance^  chastity,  etc., — sent 
out  by  the  Queen  of  Fairyland,  in  whom  are  combined  all 
womanly  virtues,  during  twelve  months  and  a  day  meet 
with  many  adventures  as  they  contend  with  knights, 
dragons,  wizards,  enchantresses,  etc.,  typifying  the  tempta- 
tions which  try  the  soul.  They  are  aided  from  time  to 
time  by  Arthur,  not  yet  king,  in  whom  all  manly  virtues 
are  combined.  It  is  therefore  an  elaborate  allegory.  Like 
the  Arcadia,    it  represents  the  afterglow  of  mediaeval  ro- 


272    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

mance;  in  it,  as  in  the  Arcadia,  the  ideals  of  knighthood 
are  glorified.  Spenser  is  called  the  poet's  poet,  because 
of  the  wonderful  melody  and  grace  of  his  lines,  and  the 
supreme  skill  with  which  sensuous  beauty  and  high  moral 
purpose  are  blended. 

Other  narrative  poems  were  produced  by  Elizabethans — 
by  Shakespeare,  by  Marlowe — but  Spenser's  is  the  one 
supreme  effort.  Our  table  includes  Chap- 
man's translation  of  the  Iliad,  partly  because 
it  still  is  considered  one  of  the  few  notable  renderings  of 
Homer,  and  partly  because  it  is  the  most  noteworthy  of 
an  amazingly  large  number  of  translations  in  prose  and 
verse,  of  French,  Italian,  Spanish,  Latin,  and  Greek 
masterpieces,  made  by  Englishmen  during  the  sixteenth 
century.  These  renderings  speak  well  for  the  ability  of 
English  scholarship  and  show  how  great  an  interest  was 
taken  by  Enghsh  readers  in  foreign  and  ancient  literature. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  that  the  supreme  glory  of 
the  EHzabethan  age  is  its  drama,  reaching  in  the  best  plays 
of  Shakespeare  a  pinnacle  equaled,  if  at  all, 
only  by  the  drama  of  the  ancient  Greeks. 
Literally  thousands  of  books  have  been  written  about 
Elizabethan  plays  and  playwriters;  it  is  safe  to  say  that 
as  many  more  will  be  written,  clear  evidence  of  the  im- 
portance, universally  conceded,  of  this  fascinating  field. 

The  scholars  tell  us  that  even  in  the  fifteenth  century 

players  were  beginning  to  take  the  place  of  minstrels  in  the 

homes  of  noblemen,  and  that  early  in  the 
The  early  •   ,        ,^  . 

^u    ^  sixteenth  century  roammg  companies  were 

found  not  only  in  England  but  throughout 

western  Europe.    They  gave  their  rude  plays  where  they 

could,  in  castle  halls,  inn  yards,  barns,  or  on  village  greens. 

Shakespeare  was  twelve  years  old  before  London  saw  her 

first  playhouse.    Yet  by  the  end  of  the  century,  so  popular 


THE  ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD  273 

had  play-going  become,  we  can  count  some  ten  or  twelve 
theatres,  which  is  all  the  more  wonderful  in  that  the  popu- 
lation of  London  could  not  have  been  over  150,000.  Prac- 
tically all  classes  attended,  except  the  Puritans;  but  then  as 
now  the  majority  of  patrons  were  from  the  middle  class. 
Unlike  the  Norman  minstrels,  who  catered  to  knights  and 
ladies,  Elizabethan  dramatists  wrote  for  the  multitude. 
Each  playhouse  had  what  we  should  call  a  stock  company. 
It  is  surprising  to  learn  that  two  of  the  most  popular  of 
these  companies  were  made  up  of  boys.  This  grew  out  of 
the  practice  of  having  the  boy  choristers  of  the  Chapel 
Royal  give  entertainments  for  court  amusement. 

Since  of  all  Elizabethan  dramatists  Shakespeare  alone  is 
represented  on  the  stage  today,  it  is  easy  to  forget  that  he 
was  but  one  of  a  very  large  number,  his 
genius  faintly  recognized  by  his  contem- 
poraries, though  he  remained  comparatively  inconspicuous. 
Among  the  half  a  dozen  or  so  who  immediately  preceded 
him,  towers  Christopher  Marlowe,  son  of  a  Canterbury 
shoemaker,  educated  at  Cambridge,  whence  he  drifted  to 
London,  was  caught  by  the  glare  of  the  theatre,  went  the 
primrose  way  of  many  another  college  wit  of  his  day,  and 
died  miserably  at  twenty-nine.  Had  he  lived  to  complete 
his  narrative  poem  Hero  and  LeandeVj  and  to  perfect  his 
skill  as  a  playwright,  his  fame  might  have  approached  that 
of  Shakespeare.  The  best  of  his  six  plays  is,  perhaps, 
Edward  II,  called  ^Hhe  first  well  conceived  and  solidly 
built  English  tragedy.'^ 

Of  Shakespeare,  little  need  be  said,  for  an  account  of 
his  wonderful  career  is  found  in  every  school  edition  of  his 
plays.    We  recall  how,  the  son  of  a  none  too    ^ 
successful  tanner  m  an  otherwise  unimpor- 
tant town,  marrying  early  and  unfortunately,  he  went 
to  London,  possibly  to  escape  trouble  growing  out  of 


274      A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

a  poaching  prank.  Perhaps,  as  one  tradition  states, 
he  began  his  London  life  as  horse-boy  at  the  door  of  a 
theatre.  Soon  he  became  an  actor,  then  part  owner  of  a 
theatre,  and  wrote,  besides  minor  poems,  at  least  thirty-five 
plays,  retiring  eventually  to  Stratford  where  he  died  at 
fifty-two.  Of  his  plays,  fourteen  have  been  classed  as 
comedies,  eleven  as  tragedies,  and  ten  as  histories. 

Among  the  crowd  who  followed  Shakespeare,  the  ac- 
knowledged leader  is  ''learned"  Ben  Jonson,  whose  rule 
among  his  associates  was  not  unlike  that  of 
Samuel  Johnson  in  the  eighteenth  century. 
He  was  a  physically  and  mentally  ponderous  figure,  whom 
his  contemporaries  thought  far  more  likely  to  gain  endur- 
ing fame  than  Shakespeare,  "Fancy's  child,''  unlearned 
in  Latin  and  Greek.  Jonson  patterned  his  dramas  after 
Latin  models  which  Shakespeare  utterly  disregarded.  Of 
the  scores  of  plays  that  he  wrote,  some  are  comedies,  not 
like  Shakespeare's  airy  creations,  but  realistic,  satirical 
pictures  of  contemporary  hfe;  a  few  are  tragedies,  coldly 
intellectual;  and  some  twenty  or  thirty  are  masques.  The 
masque  is  an  artificial  form  of  drama,  of  Italian  origin,  for 
many  years  exceedingly  popular  at  court  and  among  the 
aristocratic  rich.  Music,  singing,  dancing,  elaborate  stage 
settings  and  costumes  were  characteristic  features,  the 
slight  plot  being  as  a  rule  some  fable  or  myth.  The  parts 
were  taken  not  by  professionals  but  by  members  of  the 
nobility,  who  delighted  in  this  artificial  form  of  amateur 
theatricals. 

How  can  the  depth,  range,  and  brilliancy  of  Elizabethan 
literature  be  explained?  The  popular  word  to  conjure  with 
Accounting  for  in  answering  this  unanswerable  question  is 
Elizabethan  Renaissance,  the  term  applied  to  that  won- 
literature  derful  awakening  which  came  first  to  Italy 

and  gradually  spread  to  other  countries.    The  new  interest 


THE  ELIZABETHAN  PERIOD  275 

in  Latin  and  Greek,  the  invention  of  printing,  the  discovery 
of  America,  the  equally  startling  discoveries  in  the  field  of 
science,  all  had  a  stimulating  effect  throughout  Europe. 
It  was  a  period  of  great  prosperity  and  peace  for  England, 
which  had  suddenly  become  a  nation  second  to  none  and 
felt  her  glory.  But  after  all  the  customary  explanations 
have  been  made,  it  should  be  remembered  that  genius 
comes  when  it  will,  now  to  the  home  of  a  shoemaker,  or  a 
tanner,  or  to  an  obscure  country  parsonage,  and  now  to  the 
royal  court.  Sometimes  those  whom  she  touches  appear 
in  solitary  splendor,  like  Chaucer,  sometimes  in  groups  as 
in  Ehzabeth's  day.  She  does  not  always  make  poets,  but 
sometimes  warriors,  statesmen,  artists,  inventors,  ex- 
plorers. Had  we  but  the  wisdom  to  see,  we  might  pos- 
sibly find  that  her  gifts  from  age  to  age  are  more  evenly 
distributed  than  we  are  apt  to  fancy. 


CHAPTER   XXVI 

THE  PURITAN  AND  CAVALIER  PERIOD: 
1625-1660 

The  later  dramatists  1625-1642  Many  plays 

Robert  Herrick  1591-1674  fCorinna's  Going  A-Maying 

Izaak  Walton  1593-1683  The  Complete  Angler 

John  MUton  1608-1674  fParadise  Lost  (1667) 

Jeremy  Taylor  1613-1667  Holy  Living 

John  Bunyan  1628-1688  °The  Pilgrim's  Progress  (1678- 

1684) 

Queen  Elizabeth  died  in  1603,  thirteen  years  before 
Shakespeare,  twenty-three  years  before  Bacon,  thirty- 
Elizabethan  a  seven  years  before  Jonson,  and  seven  years 
misleading  before  the  appearance  of  the  authorized 
*®^^  version  of  the  Bible.    The  term  Elizabethan, 

therefore,  is  misleading  in  that  it  is  applied  not  only  to 
those  who  wrote  while  the  Queen  was  on  the  throne  but  to 
Jacobean  writers  as  well;  that  is,  to  writers  of  the  reign  of 
James  I.  The  literatures  of  the  two  reigns  are  thus  grouped 
together  because  they  have  many  characteristics  in  common. 

Viewing  broadly  the  output  of  the  brief  period  now  to  be 
considered  and  comparing  it  with  the  Elizabethan,  we  note 
Reformation  that  a  gradual  change  is  taking  place.  The 
and  Elizabethans    were    swept    along    by    the 

Renaissance  Renaissance,  that  intellectual  awakening 
which  came  first  to  Italy  upon  the  rediscovery  of  Greek 
and  Latin  literature,  followed  by  discoveries  in  the 
realm  of  science  which  swept  away  many  of  the  crude 
ideas  which  had  prevailed  during  the  Middle  Ages,  and 
a  vast  widening  of  the  world  through  the  voyages  of 
Columbus  and  the  later  explorers.    They  lived  moreover 

276 


PURITAN  AND  CAVALIER  PERIOD       277 

in  an  England  possessed  of  new  glory  through  rapid  rise 
to  great  prosperity  and  political  prominence  in  which  all 
felt  that  they  had  a  part.  It  was  a  time  of  peace.  But 
along  with  the  intellectual  awakening  came  the  Reforma- 
tion, a  breaking  away  from  the  powerful  church  system 
which  for  so  many  centuries  had  bound  together  all  west- 
ern Europe  with  Rome  as  its  head,  and  the  development 
of  the  idea  that  there  should  be  more  freedom  of  thought 
in  regard  to  moral  and  religious  questions,  with  the  Bible 
as  a  supreme  guide.  This  moral  awakening,  felt  strongly 
even  in  the  days  of  Wyclif ,  was  a  great  force  in  Elizabeth's 
day,  though  so  far  as  literature  is  concerned  it  was  sub- 
ordinate to  the  intellectual;  but  in  the  seventeenth  century 
it  reached  its  climax,  influencing  not  literature  alone  but 
the  entire  national  life.  For  it  is  but  a  step  from  religious 
liberty  to  political  freedom.  England  ceased  to  be  a  glo- 
rious country  in  which  all  were  knit  together  by  common 
sympathies.  There  was  a  great  rebellion,  a  civil  war; 
Charles  I  was  beheaded;  for  eleven  years  England  was  a 
Commonwealth  with  the  Puritans,  the  extremists  among 
Protestants,  in  power. 

This  great  change  is  reflected  in  the  writings  of  the 
period,  many  of  which  are  rehgious  or  political  in  character, 
and  not  seldom  bitterly  controversial.    Yet 
one  should  guard  against  the  impression    ^Y^Ay.Q\ 
that    literature    ever   undergoes    complete 
revolution  in  a  decade  or  even  a  generation;  the  old  is  ever 
mingling  with  the  new.    Drama,  for  example,  the  most 
prominent  form  of  expression  in  the  preceding  period, 
remained  popular,  though  declining  in  merit,  tragedy  be- 
coming more  artificial  and  sensational,  and 
comedy  ever  lighter  and  coarser,  till  1642    ^^jj^^ 
when  all  theatres  throughout  the  realm  were 
closed  by  order  of  the  Puritan  parliament.    The  playhouse 


278    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

remained  idle  till  the  Puritans  lost  their  political  suprem- 
acy at  the  Restoration  in  1660.  Thus  ended  the  most 
wonderful  series  of  plays  the  world  has  ever  seen,  rapid 
in  its  rise  and  in  its  decline,  but  reaching  lofty  heights  of 
excellence. 

With  one  prominent  exception,  the  best  poetry  of  this 
period  is  but  a  continuation  of  that  remarkable  chorus  of 
songs  and  lyrics  which  began  in  EHzabethan 
days,  a  chorus  which  dies  away  during  the 
civil  strife  of  the  middle  decades  of  the  century.  In  Pal- 
grave's  Golden  Treasury  we  find  this  period  quite  as  well 
represented  as  the  preceding,  whether  the  number  of  songs 
or  the  number  of  writers  be  considered.  It  is  a  rare  collec- 
tion gleaned  from  plays,  from  popular  songbooks,  and 
from  slender  volumes  by  individual  writers.  Not  a  few 
of  the  pieces  are  anonymous,  and  most  of  the  authors 
are  represented  by  but  two  or  three  songs  each.  As  we 
read  the  names  of  composers,  we  note  that  many  are  of 
brilliant  Cavaliers,  gentlemen  followers  of  the  Stuarts, 
who  looked  upon  verse  making  not  as  a  profession  but  as  a 
polite  accompHshment.  Others  are  of  clergymen.  Cath- 
olic and  Protestant,  whose  rehgious  and  devotional  pieces 
form  a  considerable  part  of  the  whole.  It  is  not  an  easy 
matter  to  characterize  this  body  of  lyrics  collectively,  for 
they  are  of  uneven  merit.  It  is  safe  to  say,  however,  that 
on  the  whole  they  are  less  spontaneous  than  the  Eliz- 
abethan songs,  many  of  them  showing  a  more  conscious 
art,  a  cleverness  and  ingenuity,  a  fondness  for  extravagant 
conceits  rather  than  deep,  sincere  emotion. 

Herrick,  who  appears  in  the  table  as  sole  representative 

of  this  large  number  of  song  writers,  was  the  son  of  a 

^     .  London    goldsmith.      Soon    after    leaving 

Cambridge  he  took  orders,  and  failing  to 

receive  an  appointment  that  would  keep  him  near  the 


PURITAN  AND   CAVALIER  PERIOD       279 

royal  court,  the  ambition  of  nearly  every  writer  of  his 
day,  he  accepted  a  small  charge  in  the  country  where  for  a 
score  of  years  he  lived  a  simple  bachelor  life,  taking  reli- 
gious duties  none  too  seriously,  apparently,  and  finding 
during  his  long  exile  his  greatest  solace  in  recording  in 
verse  the  simple  pleasures  of  rustic  life.  He  is  best  known 
today,  perhaps,  of  all  the  Cavalier  poets. 

Belonging  more  strictly  to  Puritan  and  Cavalier  times 
than  either  the  songs  or  the  dramas,  which  are  but  sur- 
vivals from  Elizabethan  days,  is  a  consid-    _ 

,  ,  .  »  ,  .        Prose  works 

erable    quantity    of  prose — sermons,    his- 
tories, political  and  scientific  tracts,  etc.,  for  the  most  part 
without  the  pale  of  pure  literature,  though  it  would  be 
easy  to  select  half  a  dozen  prose  writers  whose  works  are 
still    rated    as    classics.      Bishop    Taylor's 
Holy  Living  and  its  companion  piece  Holy    ^r. 
Dying  are  perhaps  the  best  representatives 
of  devotional  literature;  but  of  all  the  prose  writers  of  the 
period  save  one,  the  securest  place  has  been  gained  by 
Izaak  Walton,  a  man  of  little  education,  but  a  book-lover, 
who  was  for  many  years  a  London  shopkeeper,  though  the 
last  twenty  years  of  his  long  life  were  spent  in  the  palace  of 
his  friend  the  Bishop  of  Winchester.    He  was  the  first  to 
write  short,   informal  biographical  sketches;  but  he  is 
better   known  by  his  Complete  Angler,  published  in   his 
sixtieth  year,  which  remains  not  only  the  best  but  the 
only  manual  on  the  art  and  pleasure  of  fishing  that  is 
recognized  as  belonging  unmistakably  to  pure  literature. 
It  is  a  dehghtful  volume. 

Needless  to  say,  the  greatest  writer  of  the  century  is 
John  Milton,  who  with  Shakespeare  constitutes  the  su- 
preme glory  of  our  literature.    It  is  well  to    -_.,, 

,        ,  -      -         ,       ,     1  Milton 

remember   now   closely   related   these   two 

men  are  in  point  of  time;  Milton  was  eight  years  old  wheu 


> 


280    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

Shakespeare  died.  He  is  often  termed  the  last  of  the 
Ehzabethans,  so  unmistakably  do  his  writings  reflect  the 
influence  of  the  Renaissance.  This  is  true  of  his  earlier 
poems,  written  during  his  seven  years  at  Cambridge  and 
the  succeeding  five  years  passed  at  Horton,  his  father's 
country  seat,  in  a  continuation  of  his  study  of  Greek, 
Latin,  Italian,  and  English  literature.  The  very  best  of 
the  lyric  poetry  mentioned  in  an  earlier  paragraph  is 
Milton's,  composed  in  his  young  manhood  days.  It  is 
truly  Elizabethan  in  spirit.  Following  this  early  period 
came  twenty  years  during  which  Milton  wrote  little  save 
prose,  much  of  it  controversial,  for  he  became  the  literary 
champion  of  the  Puritan  cause.  It  was  in  his  later  years 
that  he  returned  to  poetry.  Then  it  was  that,  bhnd,  poor, 
his  life  for  a  time  in  danger  because  of  the  prominent  part 
he  had  played  during  the  Commonwealth,  he  composed 
his  great  epic  Paradise  Lost,  soon  followed  by  Paradise 
Regained  and  Samson  Agonistes.  In  these  as  in  his  earUer 
works  we  see  the  influence  of  his  close  study  of  Greek  and 
Latin  classics,  yet  even  more  marked  is  the  influence  of  the 
Bible.  Paradise  Lost  is  itself  the  story  of  Adam's  fall, 
based  upon  Old  Testament  narrative.  It  marl^  the  con- 
clusion of  that  long  line  of  sacred  poetry  which  began  with 
the  Caedmon  paraphrases.  Thus  it  is  right  to  say  that 
in  Milton  are  combined  the  best  that  the  Renaissance  and 
the  Reformation  brought  to  England. 

Milton  was  the  son  of  a  wealthy,  cultured  London 
scrivener,  a  Puritan  who  loved  music  and  was  himself  a 
musician  of  ability.  He  received  every 
advantage  that  could  come  from  a  good 
Puritan  home,  from  college  education,  and  from  travel 
abroad.  In  marked  contrast  is  John  Bunyan,  the  second 
great  Puritan  of  the  century.  He  was  the  son  of  a  poor 
kettle-maker,  received  but  little  schooling,  read  few  books, 


PURITAN  AND  CAVALIER  PERIOD       281 

and  never  looked  upon  literature  save  as  a  means  for 
converting  sinners.  He  became  what  we  should  call  an 
evangelist,  and  in  time  a  famous  preacher  of  great 
influence  throughout  England.  Many  years  of  his  life 
were  spent  in  jail,  for  in  those  days  dissenting  preachers 
were  considered  law-breakers,  and  while  in  jail  he  com- 
posed many  of  his  works.  His  masterpiece,  The  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  stands  alone,  the  greatest  allegory  in  all  English 
literature  and,  next  to  the  Bible,  the  one  book  that  has 
most  greatly  influenced  the  moral  life  of  the  English  people. 
It  should  be  noted  that  Paradise  Lost  and  Pilgrim's 
Progress,  the  only  great  Puritan  masterpieces,  belong 
chronologically  to  the  next  period,  for  they  . 

were  not  published  till  after  the  Restoration 
in  1660.  As  a  class,  the  Puritans  were  not  art-loving;  to 
many  of  them  music  and  poetry  and  art  were  vanities, 
or  worse.  Literature,  save  that  of  great  genius  which  no 
unfavorable  conditions  can  ever  suppress,  could  not  be 
expected  from  people  holding  such  views.  Yet  to  think 
that  these  two  masterpieces  are  the  only  products  of 
Puritanism  would  be  as  great  an  error  as  to  think  that 
Puritanism  came  to  an  abrupt  end  when  the  banished 
Stuarts  returned  to  England.  The  political  supremacy 
of  the  Puritans  was  brief,  but  their  influence  upon  na- 
tional character  was  lasting;  and  the  character  of  a  nation 
is  sure  to  be  reflected  in  its  literature. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 
RESTORATION  PERIOD:   1660-1700 

John  Dryden  1631-1700     Plays,  satires,  translations,   critical 

essays;  jAlexander's  Feast 

When  Charles  II  and  his  followers  returned  to  England 
after  their  long  banishment,  there  was  a  notable  rebound 
from  the  straight-laced  Puritan  rule  of 
Puritanism  Commonwealth  days.  The  theatres,  closed 
since  1642,  were  reopened,  and  for  the  first 
time  the  French  custom  of  permitting  women  to  act  was 
followed.  Few  of  the  older  dramatists  remained,  but  new 
playwrights  straightway  appeared  whose  clever,  witty 
pomedies  picturing  the  follies  of  polite  society  delighted 
the  town.  We  should  like  to  believe  these  pictures  over- 
drawn, so  shamelessly  dissolute  are  they;  but  we  have  only 
to  read  the  diary  of  Samuel  Pepys,  a  London  tailor's  son 
who  rose  to  be  secretary  to  the  admiralty,  to  be  convinced 
that  fashionable  London  was  as  immoral  as  it  was  gay. 
This  gossipy  diary  in  which  Pepys  recorded,  in  cipher,  the 
minutest  details  of  his  life,  was.  intended  for  his  eye  alone. 
Its  testimony  is  therefore  reliable. 

Many  have  attributed  this  state  of  affairs  to  the  King's 
long  stay  in  France.  Certain  it  is  that  writers  of  tragedy 
were  influenced  by  French  models  in  which 
.  fl„gj,j,o  rhyme  took  the  place  of  blank  verse,  and 

the  classical  unities  of  time,  place,  and  action 
were  observed.  How  inferior  Restoration  tragedy  is  to 
Elizabethan  may  be  seen  by  comparing  Dryden's  All  for 
Love  with  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  two  plays 

282 


RESTORATION  PERIOD  283 

based  upon  the  same  historic  events.  Although  the  dram- 
atists constructed  their  plays  after  French  rules,  they 
recognized  Shakespeare's  genius.  He  was  considered 
somewhat  barbarous  and  antiquated,  however,  and  a 
number  of  his  plays  were  rewritten,  the  plot  construction 
changed,  the  language  modernized,  and  rhyme  substituted 
for  blank  verse! 

Of  the  non-dramatic  literature  of  this  period,  it  is  no- 
ticeable that  a  large  part  is  satirical  poetry.    One  of  the 
most  popular  books  of  the  day  was  Samuel 
Butler's    Hudihras,    a    burlesque    romance         , 
ridiculing  the  Puritans.     It  was  an  age  of 
criticism  and  satire,  and  poetry  was  made  to  do  much  of 
the  mean  work  of  political  warfare  now  carried  on  by  our 
newspapers.     But  the  political  wrangles  of  those  early 
times   when   the   Whig   and    Tory   parties   were   newly 
formed  are  so  far  away  from  us  that  the  long,  clever, 
biting  satires   of  the  day  are  no  longer  read  save  by 
students. 

As  for  prose,  the  Restoration  period  was  preeminently 
one  of  prose,  most  of  which  lies  without  the  pale  of  pure 
literature,  if  we  except  the  comedies  already    a  period  of 
mentioned.      Sermons,    histories,    scientific    prose  pre- 
works,    and   the    like,    we   may   disregard,    eminently 
though  pieces  of  much  less  excellence  have  received  notice 
in  earlier  periods.    When  in  1662  the  Royal  Society  (for 
the  cultivation  of  the  natural  sciences)  was  founded,  one  of 
its  regulations  urged  the  members  to  strive  after  clearness, 
directness,  and  conversational  ease  in  their  writings  rather 
than  after  cleverness  and  ornamentation.    Purity,  clear- 
ness, combined  with  ease  and  polish,  formed  the  ideal 
which  chastened  Restoration  prose  generally.    No  attempt 
was  made  to  render  it  poetical,  after  the  maimer  of  the 
EUzabethans. 


284    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

Although  it  was  a  time  of  unusual  intellectual  brilliancy, 
the  period  produced  but  one  great  writer,  John  Dryden,  a 
lifelong  man  of  letters,  lacking  in  the  crea- 
tive imagination  which  Hfts  Shakespeare  and 
Milton  above  their  times,  lacking  too  in  moral  and  emo- 
tional qualities,  but  a  man  of  great  intellect  and  a  master 
craftsman  able  to  use  his  pen  along  many  lines  of  com- 
position. Twenty  or  more  plays  stand  to  his  credit.  His 
non-dramatic  poetry  fills  eight  hundred  pages  or  more, 
closely  packed,  and  his  critical  essays,  most  of  which  are 
found  as  prefaces  to  his  plays,  are  models  of  clear,  vigor- 
ous, rapid  English.  His  best  tragedies  out4op  all  con- 
temporary drama.  He  is  the  first  great  English  satirist. 
His  translation  of  the  Mneid  remains  a  standard  today. 
His  songs  are  perhaps  the  best — ^which  is  poor  praise — 
among  the  inferior  ones  of  his  time.  He  wrote  heroic 
verse  (rhyming  pentameter  couplets)  with  greater  skill 
than  any  of  his  contemporaries.  That  his  works  are  now 
but  seldom  read  is  due  to  the  fact  that  he  was,  after  all, 
merely  a  craftsman,  not  a  genius,  no  greater  than  the 
times  for  which  he  wrote.  The  whim  of  fortune  is  well 
illustrated  by  the  fact  that  to  the  great  body  of  readers  he 
is  best  known  today  not  by  any  of  his  more  ambitious 
pieces  but  by  Alexander's  Feast,  a  song  written  to  order 
for  a  musical  society,  in  honor  of  St.  Cecilia. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 
QUEEN  ANNE  PERIOD:   1700-1744 

Daniel  Defoe  1661  (?)-1731       °Robinson  Crusoe 
Jonathan  Swift  1667-1745         ^Gulliver's  Travels 
Richard  Steele  1671-1729  The  Spectator 

Joseph  Addison  1672-1719  The  Spectator 

Alexander  Pope  1688-1744       fRape  of  the  Lock,  fTransl.  of 

the  Iliad 

This  period  extends  from  the  death  of  Dryden  to  the 
death  of  his  successor,  Pope,  yet  it  most  commonly  bears 
the  name  of  the  queen  during  whose  brief 
reign  (1702-1714)  the  important  writers  came  ch^acteristics 
into  prominence.  It  is  also  called  the  Class- 
ical or  Augustan  Age,  for  Latin  models  were  followed  as  in 
Dryden's  day,  and  the  authors  who  flourished  under  the 
Roman  emperor  Augustus  were  reverenced  as  masters. 
Another  of  its  names  is  the  Age  of  Prose.  Of  the  five 
writers  whose  names  appear  in  the  table,  the  first  four  are 
prose  writers,  and  not  a  little  of  Queen  Anne  poetry  is  of 
the  satirical  or  didactic  order,  which  in  spirit  most  nearly 
approaches  prose.  Finally,  it  might  well  be  called  the  Age 
of  Political  Controversy.  Party  feeling  ran  high,  and  the 
weapon  used  in  political  warfare  was  the  pamphlet.  Party 
leaders  were  glad  to  secure  the  services  of  bright  young 
university  graduates  of  literary  ability.  At  no  other  time 
in  England's  history  have  men  of  letters  been  so  closely 
connected  with  public  affairs  and  never  so  richly  rewarded 
for  party  service. 

Of  the  four  prose  writers  whom  we  are  to  consider,  three 
w^ere  among  the  most  prominent  of  political  partisans; 

285 


286    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

Defoe,  the  fourth,  though  a  most  energetic  and  influen- 
tial  pamphleteer,   occupied   a  middle   position  between 
,  this  prominent  trio  and  that  small  army  of 

cheap  hack-writers  who  have  made  Grub 
Street  famous.  The  details  of  his  life  are  none  too  cer- 
tainly known.  His  father  was  a  butcher.  At  one  time 
Defoe  was  a  wholesale  hosier,  at  another  time  the  pro- 
prietor of  a  brick  factory.  Twice  he  was  bankrupt  for 
large  sums.  For  offending  the  Government  through  his 
political  pamphlets,  he  was  pilloried  and  imprisoned.  Al- 
though his  later  years  were  marked  by  a  degree  of  pros- 
perity which  enabled  him  to  build  a  ''handsome  house ^' 
where  he  might  have  lived  in  moderate  luxury,  he  died 
in  lodgings,  presumably  hiding  from  persecutors  who  may 
have  been  the  creation  of  a  diseased  mind.  Defoe's  ability 
as  a  pamphleteer  is  attested  by  the  sale  of  one  of  his  sat- 
ires, which  reached  80,000  copies.  Because  of  his  Review^ 
a  newspaper  issued  while  he  was  in  Newgate  prison,  and 
written  entirely  without  assistance,  he  has  been  called  the 
founder  of  English  journalism.  His  reputation  rests 
mainly,  however,  on  Robinson  Crusoe,  one  of  seven  prose 
fictions  written  towards  the  close  of  his  life.  It  is  un- 
necessary to  say  that  this  is  a  world  classic,  the  model  after 
which  hundreds  of  stories  of  adventures  have  been  pat- 
terned, though  no  one  has  succeeded  in  doing  half  so  well 
as  the  none  too  scrupulous  Queen  Anne  pamphleteer  and 
journalist,  concerning  whom  a  contemporary  writes,  ''The 
little  art  that  he  is  truly  master  of  is  forging  a  story  and 
imposing  it  on  the  world  for  truth. '' 

The  most  original  thinker  of  all  the  Queen  Anne  "wits," 
and  the  most  savagely  vigorous  satirist  in  all  English  lit- 
erature, is  Jonathan  Swift,  who  rose  rapidly 
from  comparative  obscurity  and  poverty  to 
commanding  position  among  the  literary  politicians  of  his 


QUEEN  ANNE  PERIOD  287 

day.  Soon  after  leaving  college  he  took  orders.  It  was 
his  ambition  to  win,  through  serving  the  Tory  party,  a 
bishopric;  but  when  the  coveted  prize  was  almost  within 
his  grasp,  promises  were  broken,  and  Swift  received  merely 
the  deanery  of  St.  Patrick's  in  Ireland.  In  Ireland  the 
last  thirty  years  of  his  life  were,  for  the  most  part,  spent. 
He  was  a  bitterly  disappointed  man;  to  leave  England 
was  like  going  into  exile.  Madness  finally  overtook  him, 
and  this  was  followed  by  imbecility.  During  the  last  three 
years  of  his  life  he  scarcely  ever  spoke  a  word.  Able  critics 
declare  that  Swift's  greatest  work  is  practically  his  earliest 
satire.  The  Tale  of  a  Tub;  but  the  world  at  large  knows 
merely  his  Gulliver^ s  Travels,  which  is,  like  Robinson 
Crusoe,  surely  a  world  classic.  Readers  fascinated  by  the 
imaginary  Gulliver's  account  of  his  voyages  to  Lilliput, 
Brobdingnag,  and  Laputa  seldom  realize  that  the  entire 
book  is  the  most  scathing  satire  on  humanity  ever  penned. 
It  was  written  some  years  after  Swift's  retirement  to 
Ireland,  his  brilliant  career  among  the  coffee  house  wits  of 
London  a  thing  of  the  past. 

Addison  and  Steele  we  associate  with  the  rise  of  period- 
ical literature.    Newspapers  of  a  sort  there  had  been  well 
back  in  the  seventeenth  century,  but  these 
two  men  were  the  first  to  popularize  the        ,  ^.    . 
periodical  essay.    Their  Taller  and  Spectator 
are  the  first  and  best  of  a  series  of  similar  short-lived 
periodicals  which  reaches  through  the  first  three-quarters 
of  the  eighteenth  century.    Each  number  of  the  Spectator, 
as  every  school  boy  knows,  contained  a  single  essay,  con- 
versational in  style,  addressed  mainly  to  that  polite  circle 
of  men  who  gathered  daily  at  the  coffee  houses  so  numerous 
and  popular  in  Queen  Anne  days,  and  to  the  card-playing, 
tea-drinking,  frivolous  ladies  of  gay  London's  drawing- 
rooms.    Some  of  the  essays  are  reviews  of  books  and  plays, 


288    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

some  are  on  religious  themes,  but  most  of  them  are  light, 
impersonal  satires  aimed  at  the  follies  of  the  hour.  They 
exerted  a  quiet  influence  on  morals,  and  doubtless  pop- 
ularized good  literature  at  a  time  when  trashy  French 
romances  of  interminable  length  were  in  vogue.  Today 
they  are  valued  partly  for  the  accurate  pictures  furnished 
of  London  society  as  it  was  in  the  early  years  of  the 
eighteenth  century,  partly  because  they  are  models  of  easy, 
graceful  style,  touched  with  humor.  Addison  and  Steele 
were  public  men,  deep  in  politics.  The  writing  of  essays 
occupied  but  little  of  their  time.  Steele  became  a  prom- 
inent member  of  parliament,  Addison  rose  from  office  to 
office  till  he  was  made  Secretary  of  State.  Aside  from 
victories  and  defeats  through  shifting  politics,  their  lives 
were  not  eventful.  Their  characters  are  best  studied  in 
their  essays  and  in  the  unrivaled  delineations  found  in 
Thackeray's  English  Humorists. 

Queen  Anne  drama  offers  little  of  interest  to  the  modern 

reader.    Comedy  had  been  shamed  into  a  moderate  degree 

of  decency  by  a  pamphlet  written  by  Jeremy 

Collier  in  1688,  entitled  A  Short  View  of  the  Im- 

morality  and  Prof  oneness  of  the  Stage.    It  continued  clever, 

polished,  light,  and  of  little  merit.    Tragedy  still  followed 

classical  rules,  was  stiff  and  conventional,  never  reaching  the 

level  of  Dryden's  best  pieces.    Perhaps  the  most  attractive 

dramatic  work  of  the  period  is  the  Beggars'  Opera  by  Gay, 

the  only  poet  of  the  period  who  possessed  the  gift  of  song. 

That   Fortune   makes  many   a  strange   choice  when 

bestowing  fame  is  often  illustrated  in  the  history  of  Eng- 

p  lish  letters,  but  nowhere  more  strikingly  than 

in  the  case  of  Alexander  Pope,  the  son  of  a 

London  linen  merchant  of  slender  means.     He  received 

little  education;  indeed  the  poor  health  which  followed 

him  through  life  prohibited  hard  study.    His  frail  body 


QUEEN  ANNE  PERIOD  289 

was  deformed;  it  is  said  that  his  condition  was  such  that 
''he  required  to  be  Hfted  out  of  bed,  and  could  not  stand 
until  he  was  laced  into  a  sort  of  harness.'^  Even  had  his 
health  been  normal,  the  fact  that  he  was  a  Catholic  would 
have  barred  him  from  most  schools  and  universities,  and 
from  most  of  the  professions.  And  yet,  though  so  pitifully 
handicapped,  at  twenty-one  Pope  had  gained  his  reputa- 
tion and  for  thirty  years  was  the  recognized  leader  in  the 
field  of  poetry.  His  success  was  due  in  large  measure  to  his 
complete  mastery  of  that  form  of  verse  which  Dryden  had 
popularized,  the  heroic  couplet;  it  was  due  also  to  his 
ability  to  study  a  model  and  then  better  it.  French  models 
are  to  be  found  for  most  of  his  poems,  yet  it  is  but  fair  to 
add  that  his  poems  in  turn  served  as  patterns  for  many 
writers,  European  as  well  as  EngUsh.  He  was  not  a  man 
of  original  ideas,  was  not  gifted  with  imagination  or  deep 
emotion;  but  it  has  been  truly  said  that  there  is  scarcely  a 
belief,  tradition,  or  ideal  of  his  age  which  is  not  discovered 
lucidly  set  down  in  his  poems. 

One  of  Pope's  earliest  successes  is  a  mock  heroic.  The 
Rape  of  the  Lock,  which  tells,  in  the  grand  style  of  the 
Iliad  or  the  Mneid,  how  a  mischievous  lord  Rape  of  the 
snipped  a  curl  from  the  head  of  a  court  Lock  and  the 
beauty  while  at  a  card  party,  and  of  the  ^^^ 
"tempest  in  a  teapot "  which  followed.  It  is  the  best  thing 
of  its  little  kind  in  the  language.  Pope's  greatest  work, 
w^iich  finally  estabUshed  his  fame  and  enabled  him  to 
live  in  comparative  luxury  the  remainder  of  his  Hfe,  is  his 
translation  of  the  Iliad,  which,  though  ''it  is  not  Homer," 
has  held  its  place  ever  since  among  similar  attempts.  Al- 
though by  far  the  best  of  the  period.  Pope  is  not  a  poet  of 
the  first  rank,  nor  is  his  character  altogether  lovely.  Per- 
haps a  liberal  estimate  is  that  which  calls  him  "a  very 
great  man  imprisoned  in  a  little  rickety  body  which 
warped  and  pinched  certain  members  of  his  mind." 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


THE  AGE  OF  JOHNSON:   1744-1789 


Samuel  Johnson  1709-1784 

David  Hume  1711-1776 
Edward  Gibbon  1737-1794 

Edmund  Burke  1729-1797 

James  Boswell  1740-1795 
Samuel  Richardson  1689-1761 
Henry  Fielding  1707-1754 
Laurence  Sterne  1713-1768 
Tobias  Smollett  1721-1771 

Thomas  Gray  1716-1771 

OUver  Goldsmith  1728-1774 


William  Cowper  1731-1800 
William  Blake  1757-1827 
Richard  Sheridan  1751-1816 


Dictionary,     Lives    of    the 

Poets 
History  of  England 
Decline    and    Fall    of    the 

Roman  Empire 
Speech  on  Conciliation  with 

America 
Life  of  Dr.  Johnson 
°  Clarissa  Harlowe 
°Amelia 

°Tristram  Shandy 
^The    Expedition    of    Hum- 
phrey Clinker 
fElegy  in  a  Country  Church- 
yard 
fDeserted  Village, 
^Vicar     of     Wakefield,     She 

Stoops  to  Conquer 
fThe  Task 
fSongs  of  Innocence 
The  Rivals 


This  period,  which  includes  the  years  between  the  death 
of  Pope  and  the  outbreak  of  the  French  Revolution,  is, 
A  period  of  like  the  preceding  era,  conspicuously  one  of 
prose  pre-  prose,  and  much  of  this  prose  is  of  a  very 
eminently  substantial  kind  in  which  the  emotions  are 

less  conspicuous  than  the  intellect.  Were  we  tracing  the 
history  of  English  thought  rather  than  of  literature  in  the 
narrower,  higher  sense,  our  table  would  include  perhaps  a 
score  of  additional  names,  important  because  they  repre- 

290 


THE  AGE  OF  JOHNSON  291 

sent  the  best  of  the  very  solid  thinking  of  the  age.  Much, 
for  example,  was  written  in  the  field  of  theology.  Philos- 
ophy was  as  fashionable  a  study  with  the  educated  classes 
as  the  writing  of  sonnets  had  been  with  Elizabethan  court- 
iers. Many  great  minds  were  busy  in  the  field  of  political 
science  and  political  economy.  A  little  nearer  the  realm 
of  polite  letters  are  a  number  of  massive  histories,  the  first 
of  permanent  importance  in  English  literature.  Two  of 
these  are  given  place  in  the  table.  Finally,  it  may  be  said 
with  confidence  that  at  no  other  time,  in  any  country, 
were  there  so  many  brilliant  orators  as  are  found  in  the 
remarkable  group  to  which  Chatham,  Burke,  Fox,  and 
Pitt  belonged.  It  was  an  age  of  fiery  eloquence;  and  it 
might  well  be  added,  an  age  of  rare  conversational  skill. 

A  glance  at  the  table,  however,  will  show  at  once  that 
not  all  the  hterature  was  of  the  solid  prose  order.  There 
is  a  good  variety.  What  is  more,  as  we 
study  the  lives  of  the  principal  writers,  we  ,  , 
learn  that  though  London  is  still  the  great 
magnet  by  which  all  are  irresistibly  drawn,  her  monopoly 
is  not  complete.  Genius  is  beginning  to  scatter.  Two  or 
three  of  the  authors  whom  we  have  selected  are  Scotch, 
two  or  three  are  Irish.  Country  w^ill  soon  be  competing 
with  town.  A  partial  explanation  of  the  change  that  is 
coming  over  literature  is  found  in  the  remarkable  changes 
that  are  taking  place  in  England  herself.  Population  is 
increasing  rapidly.  Manufacturing  interests  are  develop- 
ing with  wonderful  rapidity,  bringing  into  prominence  the 
towns  of  the  north  and  west.  A  network  of  good  roads  is 
bringing  town  and  country  nearer  each  other.  Along  the 
main  roads  speed  mail  coaches;  newspapers  are  circulating 
throughout  the  realm  the  intelligence  which  in  former  days 
was  confined  pretty  much  to  the  metropolis.  Moreover 
England's  colonies,  particularly  America,  have  grown  into 


292    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

tremendous  importance,  not  only  furnishing  markets  for 
English  goods  but  presenting  serious  problems  in  colonial 
management.  Wider  interests,  a  greater  degree  of  intel- 
ligence, more  readers  and  more  classes  of  readers, — these 
naturally  lead  to  a  greater  and  more  complex  literary 
output. 

Passing  by  the  weighty  prose  mentioned  in  the  first 
paragraph,  we  may  say  that  the  most  important,  certainly 
-  the  most  interesting,  form  that  literature 

took  was  the  novel.  Prose  fiction  of  a  kind 
we  have  found  in  earher  periods — in  such  works  as  More's 
Utopiaf  Lyly's  Euphues,  Sidney's  Arcadia,  Bunyan's 
Pilgrim's  Progress,  and  Swift's  Gulliver's  Travels.  Robinson 
Crusoe  brings  us  a  step  nearer,  for  the  in- 
cidents in  this  delightful  story  might  have 
happened.  Strictly  speaking,  however,  our  first  real 
novelist  is  Samuel  Richardson,  a  prosperous,  portly, 
affable  London  printer.  How  Richardson,  at  the  age  of 
fifty,  began  writing  novels  is  interesting.  Some  publishers 
engaged  him  to  compose  a  series  of  letters  designed  to 
form  a  ^better-writer"  or  "polite  correspondence"  book. 
It  occurred  to  the  printer  in  accepting  this  commission 
that  he  might  weave  into  these  letters  a  moral  tale,  and 
the  result  was  a  four  volume  novel  in  letter  form  telling 
how  Pamela,  a  virtuous  serving  maid,  resisted  the  temp- 
tations placed  in  her  way  by  her  wild  young  master,  and 
was  at  length  rewarded  for  her  purity  and  strength  of 
character  by  becoming  his  bride — a  bride  who  reforms 
her  husband.  This  first  novel,  appealing  very  little  to  the 
intellect  and  very  much  to  the  emotions,  was  an  immediate 
success  not  only  in  England  but  throughout  Europe. 
To  us  of  today,  accustomed  to  shorter,  livelier,  more 
dramatic  stories,  Pamela  seems  tediously  long  drawn  out, 
its  narrative  commonplace,  its  morals  petty  and  obvious. 


THE  AGE   OF  JOHNSON  293 

We  are  surprised  to  learn  that  it  was  read  aloud  and  wept 
over  in  many  families,  and  that  the  author  received  scores 
of  letters  from  tearfully  sentimental  readers,  men  as  well 
as  women.  Yet  Richardson's  three  novels  are  commonly 
acknowledged  by  critics  to  be  among  the  greatest  in  Brit- 
ish fiction.  Some  of  his  characters  are  drawn  with  such 
minute  fidelity  that  they  seem  very  real,  Hke  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  in  the  Spectator  Papers. 

Among  those  to  whom  Richardson's  puritanically  moral 
Pamela  seemed  but  wishy-washy  twaddle  was  Henry 
Fielding.  Fielding,  belonging  to  the  younger  „.  , ,. 
branch  of  a  noble  house,  was  no  Puritan  but 
a  careless,  big-hearted  spendthrift,  leading  a  merry  life 
among  London  wits,  frequently  in  debt,  who  had  drifted 
into  play  writing.  He  was  a  humorist.  Straightway  the 
idea  seized  him  of  burlesquing  Richardson's  novel  by 
writing  a  companion  piece  in  which  Pamela's  brother 
Joseph,  a  serving  man,  should  virtuously  resist  all  temp- 
tations. For  a  time  this  wicked  jest  pleased  him;  but  as  he 
proceeded  with  the  story,  carrying  his  hero  through  a 
series  of  lively  adventures  in  high  life  and  low,  the  humor- 
ist became  so  interested  in  his  characters  that  he  abandoned 
his  original  purpose.  The  result  was  a  somewhat  rough, 
hearty,  humorous  production,  with  ideals  of  manhood  and 
womanhood  which,  though  not  the  loftiest,  are  free  from 
namby-pamby.  He  lived  to  do  better  work;  critics  do  not 
agree  whether  the  palm  belongs  to  him  or  to  Richardson. 

This  form  of  literature  once  estabhshed,  many  writers 
adopted  it,  and  with  varying  success.    If  we  except  Gold- 
smith, whose  delightful  Vicar  of  Wakefield 
is  too  well  known  and  loved  to  call  for  com-        .  sterne 
ment,  the  best  of  these  novelists  are  Smollett 
and  Sterne,  the  former  a  warm-hearted,  irritable  Scotch- 
man, for  many  years  a  ship-surgeon  and  later  a  struggling 


294    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

writer  who  barely  made  a  living;  the  latter  a  none  too 
saintly  minister,  writer  of  witty  sermons  as  well  as  of 
prose  fiction.  Smollett's  novels  are  coarse  but  humorous. 
In  them  we  meet  for  the  first  time  the  British  tar.  His 
best  novel,  written  during  the  illness  which  terminated 
in  his  death,  is  highly  praised  by  Thackeray.  Sterne's 
two  novels,  inferior  to  Richardson's  and  Fielding's,  are 
formless,  sentimental  things,  immoral,  yet  fascinating. 
At  least  one  of  his  characters  is  among  the  best  drawn  in 
all  literature. 

Viewing  the  fiction  of  this  period  collectively,  we  can- 
not but  note  one  thing:  it  is  not  romantic.  It  pictures, 
or  strives  to  picture,  not  ideal  life  in  an  ideal  country, 
but  English  contemporary  life  and  manners  as  seen 
through  the  eyes  not  of  courtiers  but  of  people  belong- 
ing to  the  middle  class.  With  the  exception  of  The  Vicar 
of  Wakefield,  it  does  not  furnish  desirable  reading  for  the 
young;  for  ideas  concerning  what  scenes  should  be  rep- 
resented and  what  matters  discussed  in  novels  have 
changed  since  the  somewhat  too  free  and  outspoken  days 
of  the  eighteenth  century. 

Prose  fiction  and  drama,  it  has  often  been  remarked, 
seldom  flourish  side  by  side.    Drama  during  the  middle 

third  of  the  century,  and  indeed  later,  was 

very  weak,  particularly  tragedy.  Among 
the  writers  of  comedy,  however,  were  two  who  are  often 
called  the  best  since  Shakespeare.  These  are  Goldsmith 
and  Sheridan,  whose  She  Stoops  to  Conquer  and  The  Rivals 
are  still  popular  and  mirth  producing.  Like  the  novels, 
they  picture  contemporary  manners. 

The  story  of  Goldsmith's  life,  too  long  to  tell  in  this 

summary,  is  as  interesting  as  most  novels. 

He  did  more  foolish  things,  was  a  failure  at 
more  things,  than  any  other  man  we  have  considered. 


THE  AGE  OF  JOHNSON  295 

He  was  very  vain,  and  very  improvident;  but  his  biogra- 
phers also  use  the  words  candor,  generosity,  simpHcity,  and 
sweetness  in  teUing  of  his  character.  Notwithstanding  his 
many  failures,  it  was  his  lot  to  produce  a  play,  a  novel,  and 
two  poems  which  are  classics.  His  essays  are  among  the 
best  of  his  day.  Sheridan,  like  Goldsmith, 
was  of  Irish  parentage,  his  father  an  actor,  his 
mother  a  playwright  and  novelist.  Although  early  pro- 
nounced an  impenetrable  dunce  by  his  mother,  at  twenty- 
eight  he  had  written  six  successful  comedies  and  estab- 
lished his  fame.  At  twenty-eight  his  literary  career  closed 
abruptly.  He  became  a  member  of  parHament  and  en- 
gaged in  bitter  political  controversy.  For  a  time  he  was 
manager  of  Drury  Lane  theatre.  His  fortune  varied 
from  great  prosperity  to  poverty.  He  died  deeply  in 
debt. 

Although  the  larger  histories  credit  this  period  with 
perhaps  a  score  of  poets,  with  the  exception  of  Goldsmith, 
Gray,   and  Blake  they  are  not  generally 

known  to  modern  readers.   It  is  a  transitional    .         . 

in  poetry 

period,  in  which  the  old  is  dying  out  slowly 
and  the  new  as  slowly  gaining  ground.  By  the  old  is 
meant  poetry  patterned  after  that  of  Dryden  and  Pope, 
coldly  intellectual,  following  classical  models,  and  written 
in  heroic  couplets,  the  favorite  measure  till  near  the  close 
of  the  century.  By  the  new  is  meant  poetry  of  a  mellower 
type,  in  which  nature,  seldom  treated  by  Queen  Anne  poets 
save  in  an  artificial  way,  is  increasingly  prominent.  Very, 
very  gradually  the  new  poetry  is  gaining  in  simphcity,  in 
emotional  quahties,  and  in  melody. 

The  earliest  poet  to  show  this  new  vein  is  Thomson,  the 
son  of  a  Scotch  clergyman,  who  came  to    _. 
London  when  Pope  was  at  the  height  of 
his  power,  succeeded  in  winning  patrons,  and  somehow 


296     A   SUMMARY   OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

managed  to  lead  an  easy  life.  His  four  poems,  Winter, 
Spring,  Summer,  and  Autumn,  now  little  read,  heralded 
the  faint  beginnings  of  nature  poetry.  This 
same  love  for  nature,  and  a  turning  away 
from  the  satirical  vein  of  the  town  poets,  is  seen  in  the 
slender  volume  which  contains  the  poems  of  Gray,  espe- 
cially in  his  well  known  Elegy,  and  in  Goldsmith's  The 
Traveller  and  the  Deserted  Village.  Towards  the  close  of 
the  century  the  transition  from  the  old  manner  to  the  new 
is  even  more  marked  in  Cowper  and  Blake.  Many  who 
have  laughed  over  Cowper's  John  Gilpin 
do  not  dream  that  its  author  was  a  moody 
man,  now  gay,  now  suffering  from  the  blackest  melancholy 
deepening  at  times  into  insanity,  and  that  finally  he  lost 
his  mind  altogether.  He  is  remembered  today  by  his 
John  Gilpin,  by  his  tender  lines  entitled  On  the  Receipt  of 
my  Mother^s  Picture  out  of  Norfolk,  and  by  wonderful 
little  descriptive  passages  scattered  through  an  otherwise 
tedious  poem  of  great  length.  The  Task,  in  which  he  de- 
scribes the  scenes,  occupations,  and  characters  of  rural 
life.  An  even  more  remarkable  man  was  Blake,  by  pro- 
fession  an  engraver,  whose  life  was  one  of 
obscurity  and  poverty.  From  early  child- 
hood days  he  saw  visions — of  God,  of  '' armies  of  angels 
that  soar,  legions  of  devils  that  lurk."  His  poetry  is 
strange  and  mystical,  some  of  it  too  obscure  for  compre- 
hension, but  in  his  Songs  of  Innocence  and  Songs  of 
Experience  (how  different  the  field  suggested  by  these 
titles  from  that  wherein  Dryden  and  Pope  worked!)  are 
found  some  of  the  ''simplest  and  sweetest,  as  well  as 
some  of  the  most  powerful,  short  poems  in  the  lan- 
guage.'' Blake,  it  will  be  noted,  lived  well  into  the 
nineteenth  century. 

Three  prose  writers  remain  to  be  considered,  Burke, 


THE  AGE  OF  JOHNSON  297 

Johnson,  and  Boswell.  The  first  of  these  DeQuincey  has 
termed  the  "supreme  writer  of  the  century."  Others  have 
declared  that  his  was  the  greatest  mind  since 
Shakespeare's,  though  Carlyle  maintains  that 
he  was  "a,  resplendent,  far-sighted  rhetorician,  rather  than 
a  deep  and  earnest  thinker."  In  a  way  he  lies  without 
our  province,  for  his  field  was  oratory;  yet  because  his 
speeches  have  been  carefully  preserved  and  are  models  of 
forceful  eloquence,  it  would  be  a  blunder  to  omit  all  men- 
tion of  this  brilliant,  earnest  Irishman  who  came  to  London 
entirely  without  influence  and  became  in  a  few  years  one 
of  the  foremost  figures  in  Enghsh  politics. 

This  period  appropriately  bears  the  name  of  Samuel 
Johnson,  son  of  a  bookseller  in  the  little  cathedral  town  of 
Lichfield.  When  a  young  man  he  came  to 
London  at  a  time  when  the  literary  pro- 
fession was  very  poorly  paid,  for  years  endured  bitter 
poverty  as  a  hack-writer  for  booksellers,  but  gradually  won 
his  way  to  prominence,  and  for  many  years  was  the  leading 
figure  in  English  letters,  looked  up  to  by  all  contemporary 
writers.  Most  of  these  writers  were  his  personal  friends, 
and  many  of  them,  such  as  Burke,  Goldsmith,  Sheridan, 
and  Gibbon,  were  members  of  the  Club,  of  which  Johnson 
was  a  charter  member.  At  the  meetings  of  this  Club, 
Johnson  was  ever  the  leader  in  conversation,  delivering 
opinions  on  a  vast  variety  of  subjects,  some  trivial,  some 
most  weighty;  for  he  loved  to  talk,  and  his  great  philo- 
sophical mind  found  easy  expression.  Johnson's  works 
include  two  satirical  poems,  an  unsuccessful  tragedy,  a  di- 
dactic novel,  a  dictionary  of  the  English  language,  essays, 
and  biographical  sketches,  nearly  all  of  which  are  now 
forgotten.  That  Johnson  is  today  the  best  known  writer  of 
the  century  is  due  to  James  Boswell,  a  young  Scotch  law- 
yer, member  of  the  Club,  who  attached  himself  to  the 


298     A  SUMMARY   OF  ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

philosopher  as  a  dog  to  his  master,  recorded  his  conversa- 
tion with  painstaking  minuteness,  and  finally  wrote  what 
is  admitted  to  be  the  best  biography  of  its  kind  ever  pro- 
duced. As  we  read  this  stupendous  work  we  cannot  but 
agree  with  Macaulay  that  Johnson  was  a  great  and  good' 
man. 


CHAPTER  XXX 


WORDSWORTH-SCOTT  ERA:   1789-1832 


Robert  Burns  1759-1796 

Sir  Walter  Scott  1771-1832 

WilUam  Wordsworth  1770-1850 

Samuel  T.  Coleridge  1772-1834 
Lord  Byron  1788-1824 
Percy  B.  Shelley  1792-1822 

John  Keats  1795-1821 

Jane  Austen  1775-1817 
Charles  Lamb  1775-1834 
Thomas  DeQuincey  1785-1859 


fSongs,  fThe  Cotter's  Sat- 
urday Night 

fLady  of  the  Lake,  °The 
Waverley  Novels 

fThe  Daffodils,  fOde  on 
Immortality 

fAncient  Mariner 

fChilde  Harold 

JTo  a  Skylark,   fProme- 
theus  Unbound 

fTo  a  Nightingale, 

fHyperion 

°Pride  and  Prejudice 
Essays  of  Elia 
Confessions  of  an  English 
Opium  Eater 


A  period  rich 
in  poetry 


This  period  extends  from  the  beginning  of  the  French 
Revolution  to  the  death  of  Scott.  It  is  fittingly  named 
after  two  great  writers,  who  best  represent 
the  new  tendencies  in  literature:  Words- 
worth the  poet  of  nature,  who  stands  but 
little  lower  than  Milton;  and  Scott,  the  most  prominent 
figure  in  the  field  of  historical  romance  in  verse  and  prose. 
This  period  produced  no  great  actable  drama,  no  epics,  yet 
with  the  exception  of  the  Elizabethan  it  is  the  most  remark- 
able in  all  English  literature,  particularly  rich  in  lyrical 
poetry,  though  prose  fiction  and  the  essay  are  prominent. 
It  is  represented  by  many  names,  far  more  than  appear 
in  our  necessarily  limited  table. 

299 


300    A  SUMMARY   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

That  the  Hterature  of  this  period  is  not  only  better  than 
that  of  the  two  preceding  ones  but  very  different  in  char- 
acter  is  seen  at  every  turn,  especially  in 
poetry,  and  nowhere  more  conspicuously 
than  in  the  works  of  Robert  Burns.  A  poor,  uneducated 
peasant  boy,  composing  songs  in  the  vernacular  to  fit  old 
Scottish  airs  as  his  plow  turned  the  furrow;  but  a  few  years 
later,  for  a  brief  time  the  lion  of  brilhant  Edinburgh 
society;  at  thirty-seven,  poor,  neglected,  deeply  remorseful 
concerning  his  dissipated  life,  dying  miserably  in  pitiful 
obscurity:  such  is  the  familiar  story  of  our  greatest  song- 
writer. His  simple  melodies,  full  of  tenderness  and  sym- 
pathy touched  with  humor,  full  of  love  for  nature,  his 
fellow  men,  his  rugged  country,  full  of  hatred  of  sham  and 
bigotry,  have  endeared  him  to  the  entire  world.  A  greater 
contrast  can  hardly  be  imagined  than  that  between  the 
artificial,  coldly  intellectual  lines  which  brought  fame  and 
riches  to  Pope,  the  commanding  poet  at  the  beginning  of 
the  century,  and  the  tender,  spontaneous  songs  of  the 
unlettered  peasant  with  which  the  century  closes. 

Burns,  the  lyric  poet  and  painter  of  familiar  scenes  from 
country  life,  found  his  subject  matter  at  his  door.  Scott's 
passion  was  for  the  long  ago  when  the  harp 
was  heard  in  hall  and  bower.  He  lamented 
the  disappearance  of  the  minstrel,  so  prominent  a  figure 
in  earlier  times.  His  hobby  during  his  young  manhood 
days  had  been  the  collecting  of  ancient  legends  and  ballads. 
At  length  he  tried  his  own  hand  at  minstrel  poetry.  The 
Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel,  Marmion,  and  The  Lady  of  the 
Lake,  first  of  some  seven  or  eight  long  poems  which  came 
from  his  pen  in  rapid  succession,  gained  an  immediate 
popularity,  so  different  were  they  from  anything  else  that 
had  ever  appeared.  The  reading  world  was  tired  of  satir- 
ical and  philosophical  poetry,  and  quickly  cast  it  aside 


WORDSWORTH-SCOTT  ERA  301 

for  these  new  romances  with  their  scenes  of  love  and  war 
and  adventure  in  which  historical  personages  figure  as 
heroes  and  heroines.  The  sales  were  unprecedented,  and 
Scott,  the  none  too  successful  lawyer,  became  famous. 

Although  these  poems  still  have  hundreds  of  thousands 
of  readers,  for  the  world  seldom  wearies  of  gallant  knights 
and  ladies  fair  and  all  the  trappings  that  go 
with  chivalry,  this  new  Scottish  minstrel 
slipped  into  the  background  when  the  young  and  beautiful 
Lord  Byron  awoke  one  morning  to  find  himself  famous 
through  his  romance  of  travel,  Childe  Harold.  Childe 
Harold  is  but  Lord  Byron,  his  long  poem  but  a  record  of 
European  travels  in  lands  recently  brought  into  prom- 
inence through  the  stirring  events  following  the  French 
Revolution.  Its  descriptive  passages,  its  stanzas  in  which 
the  moody,  pessimistic,  yet  freedom-loving  poet  describes 
his  emotions  upon  contemplating  this  scene  and  that,  so 
appealed  to  the  great  masses  that  Byron  became  the  idol 
of  all  Europe.  A  man  of  '' careless  yet  great  poetical 
gifts"  undoubtedly  he  was;  his  subject  matter  was  new 
and  his  personality  fascinating;  but  his  fame  has  slowly 
declined.  Scott,  posterity  has  decided,  is  the  sweeter, 
more  wholesome  poet.  His  works  are  not  tainted  with 
voluptuousness  and  scorn  for  accepted  codes  of  morals  as 
are  Byron's;  nor  does  Scott  ever  parade  his  own  sorrows. 

Byron's  life  ended  nobly,  for  he  died  of  fever  while 
fighting  for  Greek  freedom;  but  his  young  manhood  days 
were  wild  and  passionate,  and  his  later  life  ^  ,  ., 
on  the  continent,  where  much  of  his  time  was 
spent,  was  far  from  faultless.  Very  different  was  the  career 
of  William  Wordsworth,  who  lived  a  quiet,  blameless  life 
of  plain  living  and  high  thinking.  A  small  legacy  from 
a  friend,  afterwards  supplemented  by  other  sums  gained 
through  inheritance,  relieved  him  of  all  care  concerning 


302    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

money  matters.  We  associate  him  with  the  beautiful 
lake  and  mountain  region  of  northwestern  England, 
where  most  of  his  days  were  passed  in  ideal  companion- 
ship with  his  wife  and  his  sister  Dorothy.  He  was  a 
life-long  poet,  for  years  the  object  of  ridicule  on  the  part 
of  the  critics,  but  living  to  be  recognized  as  one  whose 
works  were  in  a  way  revolutionary. 

The  Queen  Anne  writers  had  believed  that  correctness 
and  polish  should  be  sought  even  at  the  expense  of  individ- 
Wordsworth's  uality.  They  subjected  themselves  to  rules, 
theory  of  The  heroic  couplet  was  adopted  as  the  one 

poetry  perfect  measure,  and  poets  employed  a  select 

vocabulary  of  choice  words,  as  if  the  phrases  of  common 
speech  were  too  inelegant  for  verse.  The  favorite  themes 
were  philosophical  and  satirical.  Against  all  this  Words- 
worth rebelled.  He  believed  no  vocabulary  more  poetical 
than  that  of  common  speech,  no  matter  more  fit  for  the 
poet's  use  than  his  daily  experiences  and  the  simple  objects 
contemplated  day  by  day.  He  employed  a  variety  of 
meters,  including  the  sonnet  form,  which  had  been  neg- 
lected for  a  century  and  more. 

Wordsworth  is  our  greatest  nature  poet.  He  lived  with 
Nature,  communed  with  her  as  if  she  were  a  spirit,  drew 

from  her  his  philosophy,  if  not  his  religion. 
Wordsworth  a    ^^  ,  ,  ,  ., ,  \tt     ^ 

Volumes  have  been  written  on  Words- 
nature  poet  ,  .      1 

worth  s  nature-worship,  but  we  do  not  need 

to  read  them  to  enjoy,  and  in  a  measure  understand,  the 
simpler  of  his  poems  in  which  he  records  his  companionship 
with  mountains,  brooks,  trees,  flowers,  birds,  the  peaceful 
lake,  and  the  starlit  skies. 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  Wordsworth's  poetry 

deals  largely  with  nature  and  the  simple  life 

of  the  peasants  who  lived  about  him,  he 

should  be  credited  with  imagination  and  deep  thought.    His 


WORDSWORTH-SCOTT  ERA  303 

imagination  is  of  a  very  different  kind,  however,  from  that 
which  we  find  in  Coleridge's  weird  poem  of  the  supernat- 
ural. Rime  of  the  Ancient  Mariner j  which  first  appeared  in  a 
httle  volume  made  up  of  verses  written  by  these  brother 
poets.  Coleridge  was  a  life-long  dreamer,  his  career  most 
exasperating  to  those  who  believe  that  even  poets  should 
support  themselves  and  their  famiUes.  Apparently  he  was 
absolutely  helpless  in  business  affairs,  unable  to  follow  a 
venture  for  any  length  of  time.  His  will,  never  very 
strong,  was  weakened  by  the  use  of  opium,  first  taken  as 
a  medicine.  Much  of  his  life  he  was  dependent  on  others 
for  support.  And  yet  this  indolent  man,  most  of  whose 
poems  are  but  fragments  of  uncompleted  works,  was  one 
of  the  greatest  thinkers  of  his  day.  As  a  conversationahst 
he  ranks  with  Johnson.  His  lectures  on  Shakespeare, 
saved  to  us  through  notes  taken  by  those  who  listened,  are 
among  the  best  in  that  field.  What  poet  can  be  named 
whose  verses  have  the  melody  pecuhar  to  Coleridge's 
best  lines?  The  Ancient  Mariner  stands  alone,  the  only 
great  poem  of  the  weirdly  supernatural  in  the  language. 

Shelley  and  Keats,  the  last  two  poets  to  be  considered, 
present  a  number  of  striking  contrasts.  Keats  was  of 
lowly  parentage,  his  father  a  groom  in  a 
London  livery  stable.  He  was  physically 
frail,  destined  to  die  of  consumption  at  twenty-six.  He 
had  little  education,  and  was  practically  without  in- 
fluential friends.  What  he  would  have  produced  had  his 
life  been  spared  can  be  conjectured  only;  yet  even  amid 
adverse  circumstances  he  produced  a  few  poems  which 
clearly  entitle  him  to  rank  among  the  great.  Keats  was 
not  a  thinker;  his  poetry  is  not  a  vehicle  for  ideas,  but  a 
record  of  acutely  felt  sensations.  It  is  sometimes  affirmed 
that  his  one  message  is  contained  in  his  well  known,  though 
enigmatic,  lines 


304    A   SUMMARY   OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

Beauty  is  truth,  truth  beauty;  that  is  all 
We  know  on  earth  and  all  we  need  to  know. 

Like  Wordsworth,  he  was  a  nature  poet;  yet  his  inspiration 
came  largely  from  books.  He  was  fascinated  by  the  music 
and  imagery  of  the  Foerie  Queene.  Chapman's  Homer,  as 
he  has  told  us  in  one  of  his  most  perfect  poems,  opened  to 
him  a  whole  world  of  unsuspected  beauty,  and  he  reveled 
in  the  romance  of  the  Middle  Ages.  His  longer  poems  re- 
tell with  wonderful  beauty  tales  from  classical  mythology 
and  mediaeval  legend. 

Shelley  was  of  aristocratic  birth,  the  son  of  a  substantial 
gentleman  as  matter  of  fact  as  his  son  was  visionary  and 
wilful.  His  entire  life  was  a  series  of  striking 
incidents,  from  the  time  he  was  expelled 
from  college  for  printing  a  pamphlet  advocating  atheism 
till  his  death  by  drowning  at  thirty.  Keats  did  not  meddle 
with  the  great  problems  perplexing  the  world  in  the  years 
following  the  Revolution;  he  lived  in  his  little  w^orld  of 
sensuous  beauty.  Shelley  was  a  violent  revolutionist,  in 
rebellion  against  all  restraint,  social,  political,  and  reli- 
gious. He  saw  the  misery  and  the  tyranny  of  the  world, 
and  threw  himself  into  attempt  after  attempt  to  make  the 
world  better  and  happier,  obedient  to  no  rule  save  that  of 
love.  We  cannot  follow  in  detail  the  career  of  this  im- 
practical reformer,  though  it  is  one  of  dramatic  inter- 
est. Of  poetry  he  wrote  an  amazing  amount,  in  which 
imagination  of  the  highest  kind  is  most  prominent.  He 
is  perhaps  the  most  ethereal  of  all  our  singers,  his  flights 
many  of  them  too  lofty  for  any  save  poets  to  follow.  To 
common  readers  he  is  best  known  by  his  shorter  pieces, 
such  as  his  matchless  Ode  to  the  West  Wind  and  To  a 
Skylark. 

These  seven  poets.  Bums,  Scott,  Byron,  Wordsworth, 
Coleridge,  Keats,  and  Shelley,  make  this  a  remarkable  era 


WORDSWORTH-SCOTT  ERA  305 

of  poetry.    Prose  fiction  too  shows  a  perceptible  advance, 
reaching  new  heights  in  the  works  of  Jane  Austen  and 
Walter  Scott.    While  these  two  are  the  great 
names,  it  should  not  be  forgotten  that  be- 
tween the  days  of  Sterne,  last  of  the  five  great  eighteenth 
century  novehsts,  and  Jane  Austen,  first  of  the  five  or 
six  great  novelists  of  the  nineteenth  century,  there  were  in 
this  comparatively  new  field  scores  of  writers  who  had 
their  hour  of  popularity,  and  that  during  the  lifetime  of 
Scott  still  other  scores  appeared.    Not  a  few  of  these  were 
women.     Frances  Burney's  Evelina,  a  so- 
ciety novel  popular  in  the  days  of  Johnson,    „ 
Burke,  and  Goldsmith,  who  were  her  in- 
timate friends,  still  finds  occasional  readers.    Mrs.  Edge- 
worth's  tales  of  Irish  life  and  Jane  Porter's  Thaddeus  of 
Warsaw  and  The  Scottish  Chiefs  are  not  wholly  forgotten ; 
indeed  the  last  named  book  is  still  quite  popular  with 
young  readers. 

"Quiet,  homely,  wholesome  Jane  Austen:"  thus  has 
been  characterized  by  one  critic  the  author  of  Pride  and 
Prejudice,  concerning  whom  Scott  once  de- 
clared, "That  young  lady  has  a  talent  for 
describing  the  involvements  of  feelings  and  characters  of 
ordinary  life  which  is  to  me  the  most  wonderful  I  ever  met 
with."  Publishers  were  very  slow  in  accepting  her  manu- 
scripts; they  doubted  if  her  quiet,  domestic  tales,  as  free 
from  the  sensational  as  was  her  own  life  in  a  village  rectory, 
would  find  many  readers.  But  today  Jane  Austen  is 
ranked  with  the  greatest  of  novelists. 

Of  Scott,  it  is  hardly  necessary  to  say  anything,  so  well 
known  are  the  twenty-nine  historical  romances  which 
came  from  his  pen  after  he  realized  that  the 
popularity  once  his  as  a  poet  had  passed  to 
Lord  Byron.     This  brilliant  series  marks  the  climax  of 


306    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

romantic  historical  fiction,  so  different  in  kind  from  eight- 
eenth century  fiction  in  which  contemporary  fife  is  pic- 
tured. 

Lamb  and  DeQuincey  are  undoubtedly  the  best  known 
essayists  of  the  period.  The  former  was  the  son  of  a  law- 
yer's confidential  servant.  He  went  to 
jy  Q  -  ,  school  with  Coleridge  and  was  his  life-long 
friend.  Very  pathetic  is  the  story  of  ''gentle- 
hearted  Charles,"  as  Coleridge  called  him,  but  it  cannot  be 
told  in  this  brief  summary.  He  was  known  to  many 
merely  as  a  clerk  in  the  India  House;  the  few  choice  spirits 
who  enjoyed  the  hospitality  of  the  modest  lodgings  where 
he  and  his  sister  Mary  lived  knew  him  as  an  inveterate 
play-goer,  a  lover  of  old  books,  old  furniture,  and  whist, 
nervous,  emotional,  generous,  lovable.  No  author  in  all 
the  realm  of  letters,  it  is  safe  to  say,  is  better  loved  than 
Elia,  as  he  signed  himself  when  writing  short  essays  for  the 
London  Magazine — essays  which  differ  from  Addison's  in 
that  they  reveal  the  writer's  personality;  for  he  shares 
with  the  reader  his  likes  and  dislikes.  He  polished  and  re- 
wrote, yet  his  essays  convey  the  impression  of  unstudied 
conversation.  Lamb's  essays  fill  but  a  single  volume; 
DeQuincey  was  a  life-long  magazine  writer,  whose  many 
works  cover  a  wide  range,  though  he  is  best  known  by  his 
dream  Hterature,  particularly  as  found  in  his  Confessions 
of  an  English  Opium  Eater.  He  was  a  shy,  eccentric, 
scholarly  recluse,  by  nature  affectionate,  like  Coleridge  a 
marvelous  talker,  like  Coleridge  too  a  slave  to  opium. 
He  is  one  of  the  recognized  masters  of  English  style. 

As  we  view  collectively  the  works  of  this  wonderful 
period  we  readily  see  how  different  they  are  from  those  of 
the  two  preceding  eras.  First  we  note  that  classical  models 
have  been  cast  aside,  and  the  somewhat  artificial  diction 
of  eighteenth  century  poetry  has  been  supplanted.    Bums 


WORDSWORTH-SCOTT  ERA  307 

uses  the  vernacular  of  Scottish  peasants  and  Wordsworth 
dehberately  selects  the  simple  language  of  the  middle 
classes.  Second,  though  Queen  Anne  writers  Character- 
were  more  deeply  interested  in  their  own  istics  of  the 
times  and  looked  upon  earher  days  as  Period 
somewhat  barbarous,  less  than  a  century  later  the  ro- 
mantic past  is  fascinating  poet  and  novelist.  The  ancient 
ballads  are  collected  by  Bishop  Percy;  Scott  and  Keats 
find  much  of  their  subject  matter  in  the  romance  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  and  Lamb  lives  with  the  minor  dramatists 
of  Shakespeare's  day.  Third,  a  new  prominence  is  given 
to  nature.  Wordsworth  writes  of  mountains  and  brooks, 
of  clouds  and  daffodils.  The  roar  of  the  ocean  rolls  through 
Byron's  poetry.  Shelley  sings  of  the  skylark  and  Keats 
of  the  nightingale.  The  charm  of  The  Lady  of  the  Lake  is 
in  no  small  measure  attributable  to  Scott's  vivid  descrip- 
tion of  romantic  scenery.  The  town  has  lost  its  fascina- 
tion. Fourth,  we  cannot  but  note  a  marked  increase  in 
human  sympathy,  tender  and  democratic.  The  artificial 
barriers  of  society  and  rank  are  being  torn  down;  the 
aristocracy  of  letters  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  Burns  ideal- 
izes the  hfe  of  the  peasant;  Wordsworth  writes  of  Peter 
Bell  and  Lucy  Gray.  Shelley  devoted  his  young  life  to  the 
betterment  of  the  world,  and  Byron,  by  birth  an  aristocrat, 
died  for  the  cause  of  liberty.  Finally,  few  are  the  writers 
of  this  period  who  were  not  deeply  moved  by  the  French 
Revolution;  and  the  influence  of  German  literature,  then 
at  its  highest  excellence,  is  seen  in  the  trend  of  English 
thought. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


VICTORIAN  ERA:   1832-1900 


Alfred,  Lord  Tennyson  1809-1892 
Robert  Browning  1812-1889 

William  Makepeace  Thackeray 

1811-1863 
Charles  Dickens  1812-1870 

George  EUot  1819-1880 

Robert  Louis  Stevenson  1845- 
1894 

Thomas  Carlyle  1795-1881 

Thomas  B.  Macaulay  1800-1859 

John  Ruskin  1819-1900 


tidylls   of   the   King,    fin 
Memoriam 

fThe  Ring  and  the  Book, 
fDramatic  Lyrics 

°Henry  Esmond,  The  Eng- 
lish Humorists 

°David  Copperfield,  °A  Tale 
of  Two  Cities 

°Silas  Marner,  °The  Mill  on 
the  Floss 

^Treasure     Island,      °The 
Merrymen     and     other 
Tales 
Sartor  Resartus,  History  of 

the  French  Revolution 
Biographical  Essays,  His- 
tory of  England 
Stones  of  Venice 


Difficulty  in 
summarizing 


This  period  is  difficult  to  summarize  for  two  reasons. 
First,  we  are  bewildered  by  a  multitude  of  names.  The 
century  was  one  of  great  and  rapidly  increas- 
ing literary  activity  in  all  fields,  especially 
in  fiction  and  history  and  in  miscellaneous 
prose  of  the  periodical  type;  for  quarterlies,  monthlies, 
weeklies,  and  dailies  played  an  important  part  in  the 
intellectual  life  of  the  times.  Second,  the  period  is  so 
adjacent  to  the  present,  we  are  so  near  to  it,  that  it  is 
difficult  to  select  from  the  crowd  of  leading  figures  and 
determine  with  certainty  the  prevailing  characteristics. 
All  critics  agree,  however,  that  it  was  a  remarkable  era, 

308 


VICTORIAN  ERA  309 

nearly  the  equal  of  the  preceding  one.  Two  great  poets 
and  a  number  of  others  of  unusual  power;  three  great 
novelists  and  half  a  score  more  whose  works  bid  fair  to 
live;  three  great  essayists  and  a  number  of  others  nearly  as 
great,  besides  many  historians  and  scientists  whose  works 
possess  a  literary  charm  almost  admitting  them  to  the 
realm  of  belles-lettres, — this  is  the  proud  record  of  the 
Victorian  era. 

The  most  popular  poet  of  this  period  was  Tennyson, 
whose  life-story  is  exceedingly  simple:  born  in  a  Lincoln- 
shire rectory;  educated  at  Cambridge;  from 
boyhood  days  a  poet,  winning  recognition 
slowly  but  surely;  at  thirty-four,  the  recipient  of  a  pension; 
laureate  at  forty-one,  a  peer  at  seventy-five.  The  last  half 
of  his  life  was  spent  at  Farringford  on  the  Isle  of  Wight  and 
at  Aldworth  in  Sussex,  quiet  retreats  made  possible  by  the 
success  of  his  verse.  His  earliest  venture  was  a  little 
volume  in  which  his  two  brothers  had  a  share,  published 
when  he  was  but  eighteen.  Among  his  latest  works  were 
a  number  of  historical  dramas.  Between  these  two  ex- 
tremes came,  among  many  other  poems,  The  Princess,  The 
Idylls  of  the  King,  and  In  Memoriam.  The  first  of  these 
is  ^'a  novel  in  verse"  telHng  how  the  Princess  Ida  founds  a 
college  for  women,  but  finally  abandons  her  enterprise  and 
marries  one  of  the  princes  who,  heedless  of  the  warning 
over  the  gateway  promising  death  to  any  man  who  should 
enter  the  college  town,  disguise  themselves  as  maidens  and 
are  accepted  as  students.  It  is  a  combination  of  earnest- 
ness and  banter  dealing  with  ''the  emancipation  of  women," 
illustrating  perhaps  better  than  any  of  his  other  poems  how 
Tennyson's  works  reflect  the  thought  and  spirit  of  his 
times.  It  also  reveals  his  almost  perfect  art  as  a  lyrist,  for 
scattered  through  the  narrative  are  some  of  the  best  songs 
in  the  language.    The  Idylls  carry  us  back  to  Sir  Thomas 


310    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

Malory;  for  they  are  tales  retold  from  Morte  d' Arthur  in 
an  attempt  to  form  an  epic  on  the  fall  of  the  Round  Table. 
The  composition  of  the  Idylls  was  scattered  through  many 
years;  and  the  same  is  true  of  In  Memoriam,  sl  long  series 
of  poems  in  which  the  poet  records  the  various  moods  of 
his  grief  caused  by  the  death  of  a  college  friend. 

Critics  do  not  agree  in  their  estimate  of  Tennyson, 
though  all  recognize  him  as  a  great  artist,  a  master  of 
melody,  a  close  and  sjnnpathetic  observer  of  nature,  with 
wonderful  pictorial  powers.  We  could  ill  spare  the  works 
of  one  who  sang  so  well  in  so  many  "different  keys.  There 
is  strength  and  exquisite  beauty  in  the  best  of  the  IdyllSy 
and  many  of  his  shorter  pieces  are  faultless  gems. 

Browning,  like  Tennyson,  was  exclusively  a  poet,  de- 
voting his  entire  life  to  literature.  Unhke  Tennyson,  he 
.  waited  long  for  recognition.    Up  to  the  time 

when,  at  the  age  of  thirty-four,  he  married 
Elizabeth  Barrett,  the  leading  poetess  of  the  century,  he 
had  gained  but  a  slender  reputation,  although  he  had  writ- 
ten much  the  worth  of  which  is  now  fully  appreciated;  and 
for  years  afterward,  while  these  two  poets  were  living 
happily  in  Florence,  the  home  of  their  married  life,  he  was 
best  known  as  the  husband  of  Elizabeth  Barrett.  Not 
until  he  published,  at  fifty-six.  The  Ring  and  the  Book,  did 
he  receive  a  wide  reading.  Since  then  his  popularity  has 
steadily  increased,  many  critics  placing  him  above  Tenny- 
son. 

Browning  is  not  the  finished  artist  that  we  find  in  Tenny- 
son; much  of  his  verse  is  exceedingly  rugged  and  unmu- 
sical. Moreover  he  is  unnecessarily  obscure,  especially  in 
his  earlier  poems.  The  meaning  of  many  a  passage  has  to 
be  puzzled  out — an  enjoyable  process  to  those  who  admire 
the  poet,  but  exasperating  to  those  who  prefer  the  perfect 
clearness  of  Tennyson.    But  Browning  is  a  deeper  thinker 


VICTORIAN  ERA  311 

than  Tennyson,  and  his  manly  optimism  is  better  than 
dream-Hke  beauty.  A  few  of  his  works  are  dramas;  many 
of  them  are  dramatic  in  character — monologues  in  which 
personages  from  history  or  old  stories,  or  merely  creatures 
of  his  own  imagining,  are  made  to  talk  in  such  a  manner 
as  to  reveal  their  souls  and  incidentally  tell  in  wonderfully 
condensed  form  a  dramatic  story.  Browning  may  be  said 
to  have  invented  this  mode  of  story-telling.  In  The  Ring 
and  the  Book,  we  are  given  the  story  of  a  murder,  first  as  it 
impresses  the  poet,  who  found  in  a  chance-discovered  book , 
an  account  of  the  court  trial  it  occasioned,  then  as  it  im- 
presses ten  others  immediately  concerned.  This  telling 
and  retelling  of  the  same  story  fills  more  than  20,000  lines, 
yet  the  narrative  gains  steadily  in  interest,  for  each  version 
throws  new  light  on  the  sordid  action.  All  Browning's 
poetry  is  stamped  with  vigorous  personality.  He  was  by 
nature  brave  and  manly,  optimistic,  believing  in  hard  work, 
welcoming  troubles  and  hardships  as  necessary  for  the  de- 
velopment of  character.  He  hated  nothing  more  than  in- 
activity and  indecision  due  to  lack  of  energy  and  courage. 

Of  the  other  poets  of  the  period,  not  so  great  as  Tenny- 
son and  Browning  yet  worthy  of  mention,  two  were  women, 
Mrs.  Browning  and  Christina  Rosetti.  The 
latter  belongs  to  a  little  group,  among  them 
Dante  Rossetti,  William  Morris,  and  Algernon  Swinburne, 
known  as  the  Pre-Raphaelites,  who  found  their  inspiration, 
as  did  earlier  poets  who  shared  in  the  Romantic  Move- 
ment, in  the  Middle  Ages. 

Tennyson  and  Browning  are  great  story-tellers.    It  was 
a  great  story-telling  era,  the  golden  age  of  prose  fiction. 
By  the  middle  of  the  century  the  yearly    Dickens, 
output    was    nearly    one    hundred    novels.    Thackeray, 
Earliest  to  appear  of  the  three  world-great    George  Eliot 
novelists  who  followed  Scott  was  Charles  Dickens,  whose 


312    A  SUMMARY  OF   ENGLISH   LITERATURE 

Pickwick  Papers  (1836-7)  lifted  an  obscure  shorthand  re- 
porter of  rather  lowly  origin — his  boyhood  daj^s  were  days 
of  London  poverty — into  a  world-wide  popularity  which 
he  retained  through  the  remainder  of  his  life.  A  decade 
later  (1847-8)  appeared  Vanity  Fair,  opening  the  gate  to 
fame  for  Thackeray,  a  little  higher  in  the  social  scale  than 
Dickens,  a  little  better  educated,  who  had  served  appren- 
ticeship for  years  as  a  writer  of  sketches  for  Punch  and 
other  magazines.  Ten  years  later  still  (1858)  appeared 
the  first  of  George  Eliot's  fictions,  a  volume  of  short 
stories  entitled  Scenes  from  Clerical  Life.  Dickens  and 
Thackeray  were  of  the  city;  their  novels  teem  with  char- 
acters as  do  the  streets  of  the  London  they  knew  so  well. 
George  Eliot — her  real  name  before  marriage  was  Mary 
Ann  Evans — ^was  the  daughter  of  a  Warwickshire  land 
agent  and  surveyor.  She  is  at  her  best  when  picturing 
life  in  the  rural  districts  of  Middle  England  where  her 
earlier  years  were  spent. 

These  three  writers  differ  from  Scott,  the  out-and-out 
romancer  who  lived  in  the  past  with  kings  and  queens  and 
knights  and  ladies.  His  fiction  world  is  more  romantic 
than  real.  Dickens,  Thackeray,  and  George  Eliot  are 
realistic  painters  of  English  life  and  manners,  mainly  of 
their  own  times  or  the  adjacent  past;  though  Thackeray's 
Henry  Esmond,  by  most  critics  called  the  best  historical 
novel  ever  written,  is  a  vivid  picture  of  Queen  Anne  days, 
Dickens's  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  a  graphic  account  of  the 
beginning  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  George  Eliot's 
Romola  a  story  of  Italy  in  Savonarola's  day.  We  cannot 
tarry  to  note  how  these  three  great  artists  differed  one 
from  another  in  temperament  and  humor,  in  their  ways 
of  looking  upon  life,  and  their  theories  of  what  a  novel 
should  be;  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  determine 
which  is  the  greatest.    All  three  are  very  great,  far  above 


VICTORIAN   ERA  313 

any  of  their  contemporaries,  and  above  the  novelists  of 
the  present  day. 

Among  their  contemporaries  in  the  field  of  fiction  many 
are  of  more  than  ordinary  abihty :  Bulwer  Lytton,  the  best 
known  of  whose  historical  novels  is  The  Last 
Days  of  Pompeii;  Captain  Marryat,  writer  of  , .  , 

sea  tales;  Anthony  Trollope,  whose  realistic 
novels  of  clerical  and  political  life  still  retain  their  pop- 
ularity; Charles  Kingsley,  author  of  Westward  Ho!  and 
Hypatia;  Charlotte  Bronte,  whose  melodramatic  Jane 
Eyre  shows  wonderful  vitality.  With  all  its  faults,  Charles 
Reade's  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth  is  among  the  best  of 
romances  aiming  to  acquaint  the  reader  with  Continental 
life  in  the  Middle  Ages;  and  Tom  Brown^s  School  Days  and 
Tom  Brown  at  Oxford,  by  Hughes,  are  among  the  most 
wholesome  books  ever  written  for  boys.  MacDonald, 
Meredith,  Blackmore,  and  Hardy  are  other  names  which 
would  receive  marked  attention  in  a  wider  survey.  At 
present,  critics  are  inclined  to  give  to  Stevenson  a  rank 
second  only  to  the  greatest;  certainly  no  writer  of  recent 
years  has  employed  language  with  greater  charm.  His 
Treasure  Island  bids  fair  to  become  a  classic  in  the  field 
of  romantic  adventure,  and  certain  of  his  shorter  tales 
approach  in  genius  the  masterpieces  of  Poe  and  Hawthorne. 
We  appreciate  his  works  the  more  as  we  become  better 
acquainted  with  his  biography.  He  was  a  life-long  in- 
valid, and  fought  his  way  to  fame  through  obstacles  that 
would  have  daunted  a  spirit  less  persistently  brave  and 
cheerful. 

Stevenson  ranks  high  as  an  essayist  too,  though  not  in 
the  same  class  with  Carlyle,  Macaulay,  and  Ruskin.    The 
first  of  these  three  sprang,  like  Burns,  from 
the  Scotch  peasantry.     His  is  the  familiar 
story  of  the  poor  country  boy  for  whom  ''bitter  thrift" 


312    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

Pickwick  Payers  (1836-7)  lifted  an  obscure  shorthand  re- 
porter of  rather  lowly  origin — his  boyhood  days  were  days 
of  London  poverty — into  a  world-wide  popularity  which 
he  retained  through  the  remainder  of  his  life.  A  decade 
later  (1847-8)  appeared  Vanity  Fair,  opening  the  gate  to 
fame  for  Thackeray,  a  little  higher  in  the  social  scale  than 
Dickens,  a  little  better  educated,  who  had  served  appren- 
ticeship for  years  as  a  writer  of  sketches  for  Punch  and 
other  magazines.  Ten  years  later  still  (1858)  appeared 
the  first  of  George  Eliot's  fictions,  a  volume  of  short 
stories  entitled  Scenes  from  Clerical  Life.  Dickens  and 
Thackeray  were  of  the  city;  their  novels  teem  with  char- 
acters as  do  the  streets  of  the  London  they  knew  so  well. 
George  Eliot — her  real  name  before  marriage  was  Mary 
Ann  Evans — ^was  the  daughter  of  a  Warwickshire  land 
agent  and  surveyor.  She  is  at  her  best  when  picturing 
life  in  the  rural  districts  of  Middle  England  where  her 
earlier  years  were  spent. 

These  three  writers  differ  from  Scott,  the  out-and-out 
romancer  who  lived  in  the  past  with  kings  and  queens  and 
knights  and  ladies.  His  fiction  world  is  more  romantic 
than  real.  Dickens,  Thackeray,  and  George  Eliot  are 
realistic  painters  of  English  life  and  manners,  mainly  of 
their  own  times  or  the  adjacent  past;  though  Thackeray's 
Henry  Esmond,  by  most  critics  called  the  best  historical 
novel  ever  written,  is  a  vivid  picture  of  Queen  Anne  days, 
Dickens's  A  Tale  of  Two  Cities  a  graphic  account  of  the 
beginning  of  the  French  Revolution,  and  George  Eliot's 
Romola  sl  story  of  Italy  in  Savonarola's  day.  We  cannot 
tarry  to  note  how  these  three  great  artists  differed  one 
from  another  in  temperament  and  humor,  in  their  ways 
of  looking  upon  life,  and  their  theories  of  what  a  novel 
should  be;  it  would  be  useless  to  attempt  to  determine 
which  is  the  greatest.    All  three  are  very  great,  far  above 


VICTORIAN   ERA  313 

any  of  their  contemporaries,  and  above  the  novelists  of 
the  present  day. 

Among  their  contemporaries  in  the  field  of  fiction  many 
are  of  more  than  ordinary  ability :  Bulwer  Lytton,  the  best 
known  of  whose  historical  novels  is  The  Last 
Days  of  Pompeii;  Captain  Marryat,  writer  of  , .  , 

sea  tales;  Anthony  TroUope,  whose  realistic 
novels  of  clerical  and  political  life  still  retain  their  pop- 
ularity; Charles  Kingsley,  author  of  Westward  Ho!  and 
Hypatia;  Charlotte  Bronte,  whose  melodramatic  Jane 
Eyre  shows  wonderful  vitality.  With  all  its  faults,  Charles 
Reade's  The  Cloister  and  the  Hearth  is  among  the  best  of 
romances  aiming  to  acquaint  the  reader  with  Continental 
life  in  the  Middle  Ages;  and  Tom  Brown's  School  Days  and 
Tom  Brown  at  Oxford,  by  Hughes,  are  among  the  most 
wholesome  books  ever  written  for  boys.  MacDonald, 
Meredith,  Blackmore,  and  Hardy  are  other  names  which 
would  receive  marked  attention  in  a  wider  survey.  At 
present,  critics  are  inclined  to  give  to  Stevenson  a  rank 
second  only  to  the  greatest;  certainly  no  writer  of  recent 
years  has  employed  language  with  greater  charm.  His 
Treasure  Island  bids  fair  to  become  a  classic  in  the  field 
of  romantic  adventure,  and  certain  of  his  shorter  tales 
approach  in  genius  the  masterpieces  of  Poe  and  Hawthorne. 
We  appreciate  his  works  the  more  as  we  become  better 
acquainted  with  his  biography.  He  was  a  life-long  in- 
valid, and  fought  his  way  to  fame  through  obstacles  that 
would  have  daunted  a  spirit  less  persistently  brave  and 
cheerful. 

Stevenson  ranks  high  as  an  essayist  too,  though  not  in 
the  same  class  with  Carlyle,  Macaulay,  and  Ruskin.    The 
first  of  these  three  sprang,  like  Burns,  from 
the  Scotch  peasantry.     His  is  the  familiar 
story  of  the  poor  country  boy  for  whom  ''bitter  thrift" 


314    A  SUMMARY  OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

won  a  college  education,  and  to  whom  came  many  years 
of  toil  and  disappointment  before  wide  recognition.  Not 
until,  in  his  early  forties,  he  published  his  French  Revolu- 
tion, admittedly  the  jBnest  history  since  Gibbon's,  did  he 
become  widely  known.  His  works  fill  many  volumes.  For 
the  most  part,  they  are  not  attractive  to  young  readers, 
though  it  is  safe  to  say  that  many  a  youth  has  gained 
inspiration  from  his  Heroes  and  Hero  Worship,  which  was 
first  given  to  the  world  in  the  form  of  lectures  delivered 
before  fashionable  audiences  in  London,  the  essayist's 
home  for  nearly  half  a  century.  Carlyle  was  a  severe 
critic  of  his  times,  railing  against  the  mechanical  spirit, 
and  crying  out  against  all  forms  of  sham  in  religion,  gov- 
ernment, and  society.  He  wrote  in  what  has  been  called 
Carlylese,  so  different  is  it  from  anything  else  in  the  entire 
range  of  literature,  a  style  at  times  wonderfully  rhyth- 
mical and  eloquent,  at  all  times  suggesting  intense,  sincere 
emotion,  but  always  rugged,  vigorous,  'Volcanic."  He 
throws  lawlessly  constructed  sentences  at  the  reader  as  a 
blindly  enraged  giant  might  hurl  trees  and  boulders. 

In  marked  contrast  to  this  ''seer  and  prophet"  who 
looked  beneath  the  surface  of  things  is  Macaulay,  essayist, 
historian,  poet,  orator,  aside  from  the  nov- 
elists the  most  popular  writer  of  his  day. 
To  him  success  came  easily;  he  had  no  early  struggle  with 
poverty.  Before  leaving  the  university  he  had  written 
for  minor  periodicals,  and  at  twenty-five  the  Edinburgh 
Review  published  his  long  essay  on  Milton,  the  first  of 
many  similar  productions  which  this  versatile  man  found 
time  to  write  during  a  busy  public  career;  for  at  thirty  he 
was  a  member  of  parliament  and  continued  to  be  a  prom- 
inent Whig  orator  nearly  all  his  life.  His  Lays  of  Ancient 
Rome,  written  in  his  early  forties,  was  immediately  pop- 
ular, and  his  History  of  England,  published  some  years 


VICTORIAN  ERA  315 

later,  sold  like  a  novel.  We  may  think  of  him  as  a  typical 
prosperous  Englishman,  upright,  self-confident,  well  sat- 
isfied with  the  world  against  which  Carlyle  raved.  He  was 
an  omnivorous  reader,  with  a  phenomenal  memory.  He 
did  not  think  deeply,  but  what  he  saw  he  saw  clearly,  and 
he  found  no  difficulty  in  expressing  himself  with  clearness 
and  vigor.  His  essays  form  a  type  as  distinct  as  that 
exemplified  in  Bacon  or  Addison  or  Lamb.  Many  of  them 
are  book  reviews,  expanded  beyond  the  length  of  the 
present  day  magazine  article  to  include  a  biographical 
sketch  and  a  critical  estimate  of  some  literary  or  political 
character.  They  are  nearly  perfect  in  construction,  and 
written  in  a  brilliant,  rapid,  frequently  showy  style  which 
makes  them  agreeable  reading.  He  deliberately  planned 
to  make  his  history  as  interesting  as  a  novel;  and  so 
great  were  his  graphic  powers,  his  ability  to  paint  scenes, 
that  he  achieved  a  brilliant  success,  though  his  narrative 
is  not  always  trustworthy. 

No  doubt  Macaulay  did  much  for  his  times;  his  writings 
imparted  information  in  an  agreeable  form,  and  his  style, 
admirable  for  practical  purposes,  furnished 
the  great  masses  with  much  needed  models. 
But  he  was  not  a  great  moral  force;  he  did  not  inspire. 
This  cannot  be  said  of  John  Ruskin,  the  gifted  son  of  a 
wealthy  London  wine  merchant,  who  became  when  but  a 
young  man  the  leading  English  art  critic,  and  later  exerted 
wide  influence  as  a  social  reformer,  preaching  the  gospel 
of  '' useful  work  and  faithful  love  and  stintless  charity." 
Through  such  voluminous  treatises  as  Modern  Painters, 
Seven  Lamps  of  Architecture,  and  Stones  of  Venice,  he 
popularized  art,  leading  many  to  find  beauty  and  inspir- 
ation in  great  masterpieces  and  in  the  natural  world.  As 
a  social  reformer  he  not  only  wrote  and  lectured  but  gave 
time  and  vast  sums  of  money  in  unselfish,  if  not  always 


316    A  SUMMARY   OF  ENGLISH  LITERATURE 

practical,  attempts  to  better  the  lives  of  working  people 
through  various  industrial  schemes.  Like  Carlyle,  he 
hated  sham  and  selfishness  and  money-greed.  Unlike 
Carlyle,  he  did  not  simply  condemn  existing  circumstances 
but  suggested  ways,  industrial,  social,  educational,  for 
bettering  circumstances.  He  was  often  ridiculed;  but  his 
reforms  are  beginning  to  look  less  preposterous.  Ruskin's 
wide  influence  was  due  in  part  to  his  great  earnestness  and 
unquestioned  sincerity,  and  to  the  fact  that  he  had  a  mes- 
sage of  real  importance  to  give.  In  the  field  of  pure  de- 
scription he  is  without  an  equal,  and  all  that  he  wrote  is 
characterized  by  a  musical  quality  and  richness  in  color 
which  suggest  the  poet  and  the  painter.  He  is  one  of  the 
masters  of  English  style. 

Arnold  the  scholar,  Newman  the  preacher,  and  Trev- 

elyan  the  biographer  are  other  Avriters  of  this  rich  period  of 

prose.    Among  the  historians  are  such  well 

..  known  names  as  Hallam,  Morley,  Froude, 

Freeman,  Green,  and  Grote;  among  phil- 
osophers and  scientists,  Spencer,  Huxley,  Darwin,  and 
Tyndall.  But  in  the  field  of  pure  literature,  Carlyle, 
Macaulay,  and  Ruskin  easily  hold  first  place. 


APPENDIX 


A 

RULES  OF  PUNCTUATION 

THE    PERIOD 

1  Use  the  period  after  a  complete  declarative  or  impera- 
tive sentence. 

Be  careful  not  to  treat  a  phrase  or  a  clause  as  if  it  were  a 
coniplete  sentence.  The  following,  for  example,  is  in- 
correctly punctuated.  We  made  Charles  our  captain.  He 
being  by  far  the  best  player.  This  should  read  We  made 
Charles  our  captain,  he  being  by  far  the  best  player.  Be 
equally  careful  not  to  run  sentences  together.  The  temp- 
tation to  make  this  error  is  especially  great  when  the  second 
of  two  sentences  begins  with  a  pronoun  referring  to  a  sub- 
stantive in  the  first.  It  is  incorrect  to  write  Charles  makes 
a  good  captain,  he  is  our  best  player  and  the  fellows  respect 
him.  A  period  or  a  semicolon  should  take  the  place  of  the 
comma  after  captain. 

2  Use  the  period  after  an  abbreviation. 

/■ 

THE    INTERROGATION    POINT 

3  Use  the  interrogation  point  (a)  at  the  close  of  a  direct 
question,  (b)  in  parenthesis  to  indicate  doubt. 

THE    EXCLAMATION    POINT 

4  Use  the  exclamation  point  after  interjections,  exclam- 
atory words  and  phrases,  and  sentences  expressing  strong 
emotion. 

This  is  not  a  rule  to  be  followed  blindly;  judgment  is 
necessary  in  determining  where  an  exclamation  point  will 
add  needed  force. 

319 


320  APPENDIX 


THE    COMMA 

5  If  the  terms  of  a  series  are  all  in  the  same  construction 
and  are  not  joined  by  conjunctions,  the  comma  should  be 
used  to  separate  them.  If  only  the  last  two  terms  are  joined 
by  a  conjunction,  the  comma  should  be  used  regardless  of 
the  connective. 

The  series  may  consist  of  a  number  of  nouns  all  subjects 
of  the  same  verb,  a  number  of  verbs  having  a  common 
subject,  a  number  of  modifiers  (adjectives,  adverbs, 
phrases,  or  clauses)  modifying  the  same  word.  It  may 
consist  of  the  clauses  of  a  compound  sentence,  and  occa- 
sionally of  a  number  of  short,  closely  related  independent 
statements.  The  important  thing  to  remember  is  that 
the  terms  separated  must  be  in  what  may  be  called  par- 
allel construction.    Here  are  illustrations: 

Morning,  afternoon,  and  evening  slipped  away. 

I  rose  softly,  slipped  on  my  clothes,  and  opened  the  door  suddenly. 

I  came,  I  saw,  I  conquered. 

6  Use  the  comma,  if  necessary  for  clearness,  to  set  off  a 
dependent  clause  when  it  precedes  a  principal  clause. 

Notice  that  the  rule  has  to  do  with  clauses,  not  with 
phrases.  Seldom  is  it  necessary  to  set  off  a  phrase  even 
when  it  stands  first  in  a  sentence,  unless  the  phrase  is 
participial.  Occasionally  it  becomes  necessary  to  set  off 
an  introductory  adverb.  No  rule  can  be  framed  to  cover 
all  cases,  but  the  underlying  principle  is  clear.  When  the 
comma  is  really  needed  to  show  at  a  glance  where  the 
dependent  element  leaves  off  and  the  principal  element 
begins,  it  should  be  used.    Here  are  illustrations: 

As  he  was  passing  by,  the  door  opened  suddenly. 

Being  admonished,  let  us  follow  better  things. 

To  be  sure,  there  are  exceptions  to  most  rules. 

Thus  done  the  tales,  to  bed  they  creep. 

In  the  beginning  God  created  the  heavens  and  the  earth. 


APPENDIX  321 

7  Use  the  comma,  if  necessary  for  clearness,  to  set  off  non- 
restrictive  phrases  and  clauses. 

A  phrase  or  clause  is  restrictive  when  it  narrows  or 
closely  defines  what  it  modifies;  or  when  it  picks  out  one 
thing  from  among  several,  as  do  the  words  this  and  that. 
Removing  a  restrictive  word-group  changes  the  meaning 
of  the  sentence  in  which  it  occurs.  A  non-restrictive  word- 
group  contains  an  additional  statement,  explanatory  or 
incidental.  The  sentence  does  not  change  materially 
when  a  non-restrictive  phrase  or  clause  is  removed.  For 
example,  in  the  statement  The  greatest  man  is  he  who  does 
not  lose  his  child^s  heart,  the  relative  clause  is  restrictive. 
Remove  the  clause,  and  the  sentence  becomes  meaningless. 
In  the  statement  Affliction,  like  an  iron-smith,  shapes  as  it 
strikes,  the  phrase  like  an  iron-smith  is  non-restrictive; 
the  meaning  is  reasonably  clear  even  when  the  phrase  is 
removed.    Here  are  further  illustrations: 

He  who  strives  should  win.     (restrictive) 

Bruce,  who  had  failed  many  times,  finally  succeeded,  (non- 
restrictive) 

The  station  which  Nelson  had  chosen  was  some  fifty  miles  to  the 
west  of  Cadiz,  (restrictive) 

The  storm,  which  by  noon  had  spent  its  fury,  entirely  disap- 
peared before  dusk,    (non-restrictive) 

8  Use  the  comma  to  set  off  words  or  word-groups  when 
they  interrupt  the  thought  or  the  grammatical  order. 

This  rule,  necessarily  vague  and  covering  many  cases, 
should  not  be  followed  blindly;  the  writer  must  use  judg- 
ment. Some  interruptions  are  so  slight  that  they  do  not 
call  for  punctuation;  others  need  careful  attention.  The 
interruption  may  be  caused  by  words  coming  between 
subject  and  predicate,  or  between  a  verb  and  its  comple- 
ment. It  may  consist  of  words  independent  by  address, 
a  word  or  phrase  in  apposition,  an  absolute  phrase,  or  an 


322  APPENDIX 

explanatory  phrase  interrupting  a  clause.  Among  brief 
expressions  often,  though  not  always,  used  parenthetically 
are  too,  also,  moreover,  indeed,  namely,  again,  no  doubt,  in 
fact,  in  short,  of  course,  consequently,  for  instance,  so  to 
speak,  in  truth.    Here  are  illustrations: 

Most  rules,  to  be  sure,  have  their  exceptions. 
In  thee,  0  Lord,  do  I  put  my  trust. 

The  broken  soldier,  kindly  bade  to  stay, 

Sat  by  the  fire  and  talked  the  night  away. 

9  Avoid  placing  the  comma  before  when,  where,  whether, 
if,  or  that,  when  the  word  introduces  an  object  clause.  But 
place  the  comma  before  and,  but,  for,  or,  nor,  as,  or  because, 
if  by  so  doing  you  can  make  the  meaning  clearer. 

Placing  a  punctuation  mark  of  any  kind  between  such 
parts  of  a  sentence  as  are  closely  related  and  are  in  their 
natural  order  should  always  be  avoided;  hence  the  first 
section  of  this  rule,  which  cautions  against  separating  the 
verb  from  its  object.  The  reason  underlying  the  second 
section  rests  in  the  fact  that  some  words  are  used  now  as 
prepositions,  now  as  conjunctions;  and  in  the  fact  that 
coordinate  conjunctions  sometimes  join  single  words, 
sometimes  phrases  or  clauses.  It  is  therefore  necessary, 
at  times,  to  place  a  comma  before  a  conjunction  in  order 
to  show  that  it  is  not  a  preposition,  or  to  show  that  the 
conjunction  introduces  not  a  single  word  but  a  clause. 
That  is,  the  comma  prevents  the  reader  from  hurrying  on 
too  rapidly;  it  shows  him  the  relationship  of  that  which 
follows  to  that  which  precedes.  Notice  carefully  the 
following  sentences.  If  the  comma  were  omitted  in  the 
last  four,  the  rapid  reader  might,  for  a  moment,  miss  the 
meaning. 

He  said  that  all  was  ready. 

Please  ask  him  when  we  may  come. 


APPENDIX  323 

He  liked  none,  but  the  first  and  the  last  of  the  songs  pleased 
me  exceedingly. 

We  ran  as  fast  as  we  could,  for  the  boat  left  promptly  at  five. 

For  supper  we  had  bread  and  jam,  and  nothing  else  could  have 
pleased  us  more. 

In  this  room  were  twenty-five  seats,  and  two  long  benches  up 
in  front  where  the  children  sat  when  reciting. 

10  Use  the  comma  before  a  short,  informal  quotation. 

When  but  a  few  words  are  quoted,  and  these  words 
form  a  structural  part  of  the  sentence  in  which  they 
appear,  the  comma  is  unnecessary.  Thus  we  write,  cor- 
rectly, This  ''youth  to  fortune  and  to  fame  imknown" 
was  the  poet  Gray. 

THE    SEMICOLON 

11  Use  the  semicolon  as  if  it  were  a  large  comma,  to 
separate  phrases  or  clauses  in  the  same  construction  when 
they  are  exceptionally  long,  or  when  one  or  both  are  so  broken 
by  commas  that,  were  not  the  semicolon  used,  the  eye  would 
not  readily  perceive  where  one  phrase  or  clause  ends  and  the 
next  begins. 

Notice  carefully  that  the  word-groups  separated  must  be 
in  the  same  construction;  for  the  semicolon  should  not  be 
used  to  separate  a  principal  clause  from  a  dependent.  The 
following  sentences,  though  long  and  somewhat  compli- 
cated, are  clear  because  the  semicolon  shows  at  a  glance 
where  each  term  of  a  series  ends : 

There  was  the  honest  cock  robin,  the  favorite  game  of  stripling 
sportsmen,  with  its  loud,  querulous  note;  and  the  twittering 
blackbirds,  flying  in  sable  clouds;  and  the  gold- winged  wood- 
pecker, with  his  crimson  crest,  his  broad  black  gorget,  and  splen- 
did plumage;  and  the  cedarbird,  with  its  red-tipt  wings  and  yellow 
tipt  tail  and  its  little  monteiro  cap  of  feathers;  and  the  blue  jay, 
that  noisy  coxcomb,  in  his  gay  light-blue  coat  and  white  under- 
clothes, screaming  and  chattering,  bobbing  and  nodding  and 


324  APPENDIX 

bowing,  and  pretending  to  be  on  good  terms  with  every  songstei 
of  the  grove. 

If,  then,  the  removal  of  the  causes  of  this  spirit  of  American 
liberty  be,  for  the  greater  part,  or  rather  entirely,  impracticable; 
if  the  ideas  of  criminal  process  be  inapplicable,  or  if  inapphcable 
are  in  the  highest  degree  inexpedient,  what  way  remains? 

12  Use  the  semicolon  as  if  it  were  a  small  period,  placing  it 
between  independent  statements  so  closely  related  in  thought 
that  it  is  undesirable  to  separate  them  with  a  period. 

This  is  a  dangerous  rule  for  young  writers,  for  their 
tendency  is  to  use  the  semicolon  too  freely.  When  in 
doubt  whether  a  semicolon  or  a  period  is  the  proper  point, 
use  the  period;  when  hesitating  between  a  comma  and  a 
period,  use  the  latter.    Here  are  examples : 

Burke's  plan  was  simple,  direct,  sure;  Lord  North's  was  com- 
plex, indirect,  and  uncertain. 

I  am  her  kinsman;  let  me,  therefore,  avenge  her  wrong. 

If  fortune  favors  you,  do  not  be  elated;  if  she  frowns,  do  not 
despair. 

THE   COLON 

13  Use  the  colon  after  as  follows,  the  following,  in  the 
following  manner,  thus,  this,  these,  and  similar  expressions, 
when  they  introduce  quotations,  enumerations,  or  explana- 
tions.   Namely,  for  instance,  for  example,  and  that  is, 

when  introducing  enumerations  or  explanatory  matter,  are 
almost  always  preceded  by  the  semicolon  and  followed  by 
the  comma. 

Notice  the  following  examples: 

In  the  closing  paragraph  are  found  these  words:  "Gentlemen, 
let  us  ever  remember  that  our  interest  is  in  concord,  not  conflict; 
and  that  our  real  eminence  rests  in  the  victories  of  peace,  not 
those  of  war." 

According  to  Newton,  the  primary  colors  are  these:  red, 
orange,  yellow,  green,  blue,  indigo,  and  violet. 


APPENDIX  325 

There  are  many  shades  of  blue;  for  example,  robin's-egg, 
turquoise,  gobelin,  and  cyan. 

14  Use  the  colon  after  the  salutation  in  letter-writing. 


QUOTATION   MARKS 

15  Use  double  quotation  marks  to  enclose  a  direct  quota- 
tion. 

This  is  the  general  rule,  related  to  which  are  a  number 
of  minor  ones.    These  must  be  examined  with  care. 

1.  Be  sure  that  the  words  enclosed  are  the  exact  words 
of  the  person  quoted.  It  is  wrong,  for  example,  to  write 
He  said  "that  he  would  come  tomorrow."  Either  the  quo- 
tation marks  should  be  removed  or  the  sentence  changed 
to  read  He  said,  "I  will  come  tomorrow." 

2.  When  a  quoted  sentence  is  interrupted  by  a  paren- 
thetical expression  such  as  said  he,  two  pairs  of  quotation 
marks  are  needed,  one  for  each  section.  The  first  word  of 
the  second  section  should  not  begin  with  a  capital,  unless 
it  is  a  proper  noun  or  the  pronoun  I.  Example:  "This," 
said  he,  "is  most  fortunate." 

3.  If  the  quotation  consists  of  a  number  of  sentences, 
all  by  the  same  person,  do  not  place  marks  before  and 
after  each  sentence,  but  simply  before  the  first  and  after 
the  last.  If  the  quotation  consists  of  several  paragraphs, 
all  by  the  same  person,  place  marks  before  each  one,  but 
after  the  last  one  only. 

4.  Use  single  marks  to  set  off  a  quotation  within  a 
quotation.  Example:  "I  think,"  he  replied,  "that  it  was 
Pope  who  said  'To  err  is  human.'" 

5.  When  reporting  an  extended  conversation — some- 
thing more  than  a  brief  anecdote,  indicate  by  means 
of  indention  where  one  speaker  concludes  and  another 
begins. 


326  APPENDIX 

THE   APOSTROPHE 

16  Use  the  apostrophe  (a)  to  distinguish  the  possessive 
case  of  nouns,  (b)  to  indicate  the  plurals  of  letters  and 
figures,  and  (c)  to  show  the  omission  of  letters  or  figures. 

These  three  uses  are  illustrated  in  the  following  sentence : 
^Tis  true  John's  b's  and  6's  look  alike.  Do  not  forget  that 
the  possessive  forms  of  pronouns  do  not  call  for  the  apos- 
trophe. It's  is  not  the  possessive  form  of  it,  but  a  con- 
traction of  it  is.  Who's  is  not  the  possessive  form  of  who, 
but  a  contraction  of  who  is. 

THE   DASH 

17  Use  the  dash  to  indicate  a  sudden  change  in  the 
sense  or  the  grammatical  construction,  particularly  after  a 
series  the  terms  of  which  are  in  apposition  with  a  word 
following  the  series. 

Meanwhile  Henry — but  that  is  another  story. 

Dickens,  Thackeray,  Scott — these  are  my  favorite  novehsts. 

18  Use  the  dash,  but  with  great  caution,  between  short, 
snappy  sentences,  or  even  between  single  words  or  word- 
groups,  to  give  the  impression  of  haste  or  excitement. 

The  dash  has  a  number  of  other  dramatic  uses,  but  these 
will  not  be  given;  for,  as  one  manual  remarks,  the  dash 
''is  more  misused  and  overused  than  any  of  the  other 
punctuation  marks." 

THE  PARENTHESIS  AND  THE  BRACKET 

19  Use  the  parenthesis  (a)  to  enclose  figures  or  letters 
employed  to  mark  divisions,  (b)  to  enclose  matter  which  does 
not  belong  strictly  to  the  sentence. 

The  bracket  is  employed  in  much  the  same  way,  yet 
with  this  difference:  as  a  rule  the  words  enclosed  in  a 
bracket  belong  to  an  editor  or  reporter.     In  reported 


APPENDIX  327 

speeches,  for  example,  we  may  find  bracketed  expres- 
sions like  the  following:  [Loud  cheers!],  [At  this  point  the 
speaker  was  interrupted  by  the  member  from ]. 

Note. — For  exercises  in  punctuation  see  page  23. 


FIGURES  OF  SPEECH 

Any  departure  from  plain,  ordinary  expression,  for  the 
purpose  of  gaining  a  desired  effect,  is  called  a  figure  of 
speech.  There  are  many  kinds  of  figures,  one  investigator 
recognizing  over  two  hundred  varieties.  But  not  a  few  of 
these  are  so  common,  and  represent  departures  so  slight, 
that  they  may  be  disregarded.  The  following  are,  without 
much  question,  the  most  important: 

A  simile  is  a  definitely  expressed  comparison.  Usually 
the  things  compared  are  named,  the  point  of  resemblance 
or  dissimilarity  indicated,  and  a  word  denoting  comparison 
employed,  as  in  the  line 

Red  as  a  rose  is  she. 

Sometimes,  however,  the  point  of  resemblance  or  dissim- 
ilarity is  not  mentioned,  as  in  the  fine 

Her  cheeks  like  the  dawn  of  day. 

But  in  every  case  the  things  compared  are  quite  dissimilar 
in  all  respects  save  one.  No  simile  is  present,  for  example, 
in  the  assertion  James  is  taller  than  Henry,  since  the  com- 
parison is  between  things  of  the  same  class  or  kind,  and 
there  is  no  departure  from  ordinary,  matter-of-fact  state- 
ment. Similes  are  an  aid  to  clearness,  for  through  com- 
parisons the  reader  is  enabled  to  get  more  completely  the 


328  APPENDIX 

thought,  the  fancy,  the  image,  in  the  writer's  mind.  More- 
over a  good  simile  brings  a  degree  of  pleasurable  surprise, 
by  pointing  out  that  things  apparently  not  at  all  resembling 
each  other  possess  one  characteristic  in  common.  Finally, 
that  which  a  simile  brings  to  mind  is  often  beautiful  in 
itself,  or  stirring,  uplifting. 

A  metaphor  is  an  implied  comparison — a  simile  con- 
densed, usually  into  a  single  word.  MaruUus  employs 
metaphor  when  he  cries  out  to  the  rabble 

You  blocks,  you  stones,  you  worse  than  senseless  things! 

So  too  does  Coleridge  in  the  line 

Swiftly,  swiftly  flew  the  ship. 

In  each  case  a  likeness  is  implied,  but  not  fully  expressed 
as  in  simile.  The  Roman  citizens  are  like  blocks  and 
stones  in  that  they  are  senseless,  Marullus  thinks;  but  he 
merely  calls  them  blocks  and  stones,  assuming  that  the 
point  of  resemblance  is  evident.  The  ship  is  like  a  bird  in 
that  it  moves  swiftly,  as  if  its  sails  were  wings.  Birds  are 
not  mentioned  directly  but  simply  suggested  in  the  word 
flew.  Many  similes  are  easily  changed  into  metaphors; 
all  metaphors  may  be  changed  into  similes.  Simile  is  the 
quieter,  more  deliberate  form  of  expression;  metaphor  is 
swifter,  often  more  startHng.  Our  common  speech  is 
crowded  with  metaphors,  some  so  worn,  so  ''faded,"  that 
they  are  no  longer  recognized  as  figures.  It  is  the  basis  of 
perhaps  nine-tenths  of  our  slang.  ''Jones  'plowed  to  second 
base,"  writes  the  baseball  editor.  "The  fielding  on  both 
sides  was  green,  with  saffron  touches. ' '  The  man  whose  mind 
is  not  right  is  said  to  be  "off  his  trolley" — as  if  he  were  an 
electric  car,  or  to  have  "bats  in  his  belfry."  The  son  who 
goes  wrong  is  a  "black  sheep";  whatever  is  disagreeable 
"goes  against  the  grain,"  and  the  unexpected  "beats  the 


APPENDIX  329 

Dutch."  It  is  hardly  necessary  to  multiply  examples,  nor 
to  caution  against  the  use  of  expressions  which,  even  if  not 
coarse  or  vulgar,  are  cheap  and  commonplace — second- 
hand wit. 

Personification  is  a  form  of  metaphor  in  which  some- 
thing inanimate — for  example  a  tree,  an  animal,  or  a 
quality  like  patience — is  treated  as  if  it  had  mind  and 
personality.  Metaphors  which  imply  that  natural  ob- 
jects such  as  flowers,  or  forces  of  nature  such  as  the  winds 
or  the  ocean,  are  animals  of  lower  order  than  man  are 
also  classed  as  personifications.  It  is  a  simple  figure.  Chil- 
dren use  it  unconsciously  when  talking  to  their  playthings. 
Poetry  is  full  of  it,  for  the  poet  realizes  that  mind,  heart, 
and  soul  are  more  interesting  than  inanimate  rocks  and 
trees.    Notice  the  examples  in  the  following  passage : 

O  Cicero, 
I  have  seen  tempests,  when  the  scolding  winds 
Have  riv'd  the  knotty  oaks,  and  I  have  seen 
The  ambitious  ocean  swell  and  rage  and  foam. 
To  be  exalted  with  the  threatening  clouds.  .  .  . 

Scolding^  ambitious,  rage,  and  threatening  are  terms  appli- 
cable to  persons,  not  to  things. 

An  allegory  is  an  expanded  metaphor  taking  the  form  of 
a  story  emphasizing  a  truth  which  the  reader  is  left  to  dis- 
cover. When  Gareth,  who  wishes  to  go  to  Arthur's  court 
and  become  a  knight,  is  urged  by  his  mother  to  remain  at 
home  till  he  is  older,  contenting  himself  with  the  harmless 
chase  and  a  '' comfortable"  wife,  he  tells  her  a  story.  It 
is  of  a  royal  prince  who  asked  for  a  bride;  and  the  king,  his 
father,  set  two  before  him. 

One  was  fair,  strong,  arm'd — 
But  to  be  won  by  force — and  many  men 
Desired  her;  one,  good  lack,  no  man  desired. 


330  APPENDIX 

The  king  declared  that  unless  the  prince  won  the  first  by 
force,  he  must  wed  the  other, 

A  red-faced  bride  who  knew  herself  so  vile 
That  evermore  she  long'd  to  hide  herself. 

The  name  of  one  was  Fame;  the  name  of  the  other.  Shame. 
Here,  then,  is  a  comparison  implied  between  Gareth  and 
the  royal  prince.  Just  as  the  royal  prince  might  escape 
hardship  by  accepting  Shame,  so  Gareth  might,  yet  not 
without  shame,  stay  at  home  and  lead  a  safe,  comfortable 
life.  Fame,  he  is  trying  to  show  his  mother,  comes  only 
through  hardship  and  daring;  ease  and  inactivity  are 
shameful. 

Sometimes  an  allegory  is  a  metaphor  so  fully  expanded 
as  to  fill  an  entire  volume.  Bunyan's  Pilgrim^ s  Progress 
is  an  example  of  such.  It  purports  to  be  the  adventures  of 
Pilgrim  on  his  long  and  perilous  journey  to  Celestial  City; 
yet  there  is  a  half-hidden  meaning.  Bunyan  is  but  trying 
to  show  the  struggles  a  mortal  must  make  in  purging  his 
character  of  sin.  The  parables  in  the  New  Testament, 
short,  imaginary  narratives  used  by  Christ  in  his  preach- 
ing, are  briefer  allegories;  so  too  Sire  fables,  in  which  fre- 
quently, though  not  always,  the  actors  are  animals  or 
inanimate  things.  Yet  all,  whether  long  or  short,  are  but 
metaphors,  or  in  some  cases  similes,  expanded  into  stories; 
all  contain  truths  left  for  the  reader  to  discover.  They  are 
impressive  because  stories  are  more  interesting  than  plain 
statement,  more  easily  remembered. 

Metonymy  is  a  figure  in  which  there  is  a  substitution  or 
transfer  of  names,  a  thing  being  indicated  by  the  name  of 
something  so  intimately  associated  with  it  that  the  one 
immediately  suggests  the  other.  There  are  at  least  a  score 
of  varieties,  a  common  form  being  that  in  which  the  name 
of  a  part  is  substituted  for  the  name  of  the  whole.    We 


APPENDIX  331 

speak,  for  example,  of  shop  hands,  meaning  men  who  work 
in  shops.  Another  variety  is  employed  when  sailors  are 
called  tars,  or  salts,  tar  and  salt  being  associated  with  the 
seaman's  life.  Many  a  metonymy  is  so  common  that  it 
goes  all  unnoticed.  We  speak  of  reading  Dickens,  though 
it  is  his  books  that  we  read,  not  the  man.  We  engage 
board  without  stopping  to  think  that  board,  through 
metonymy,  means  table,  and  that  it  is  not  the  table  but 
the  food  that  is  bargained  for.  It  is  a  useful  figure 
in  that  it  often  focuses  attention  on  some  one  detail 
of  a  picture,  intensifying  the  impression.  To  say  that 
the  general  advanced  with  a  force  of  bayonets  con- 
veys a  more  vivid  picture  than  to  say  that  he  advanced 
with  a  force  of  soldiers.  It  is  perhaps  more  picturesque, 
certainly  a  shade  less  severe,  to  say  of  a  man  that  he  is  too 
fond  of  the  bottle  than  it  is  to  say  that  he  is  too  fond  of 
intoxicating  liquor.  Moreover  metonymy,  like  metaphor, 
is  a  great  time-saver,  often  making  one  word  do  the  work 
of  ten. 

Closely  related  to  metaphor  and  metonymy  is  what 
is  called  the  transferred  epithet.  This  is  illustrated 
in  the  line 

Where  brooding  Darkness  spreads  his  jealous  wings. 

Jealous,  grammatically  considered,  modifies  wings,  yet 
logically  it  belongs  to  Darkness.  But  Darkness  shows 
jealousy  through  spreading  his  wings;  hence  the  transfer. 
The  poet  speaks  of  the  cannon's  deadly  roar,  though  the 
roar  is  not  deadly  at  all.  But  since  the  cannon  becomes 
deadly  when  it  roars,  the  epithet  is  transferred  from  cannon 
to  roar. 

Hyperbole  is  the  rhetorical  name  for  exaggeration,when 
employed  not  for  the  purpose  of  deceiving  but  to  make  a 


332  APPENDIX 

statement  impressive.  The  waves  ran  "mountain  high/' 
declares  the  poet,  not  with  the  thought  that  his  words  will 
be  taken  Hterally,  but  for  the  purpose  of  stirring  the 
imagination,  which  otherwise  may  picture  waves  altogether 
too  tame.  It  is  a  noble  figure  when  nobly  employed;  a 
tiresome,  degrading  one  as  used  extravagantly  by  many 
young  people  and  not  a  few  of  their  elders,  who  continue 
to  live  though  'Hired  to  death,"  and  declare  that  things 
quite  ordinary  are  ''just  heavenly."  There  is  a  wide 
difference  between  the  language  of  real,  intense  emotion 
and  language  that  is  mere  gush. 

Irony  is  quite  as  common  as  hyperbole.  It  is  the  name 
applied  to  words  which  state  the  opposite  of  what  the 
speaker  or  writer  intends  shall  be  understood.  When 
Antony  is  addressing  the  Roman  rabble,  he  refers  many 
times  to  Brutus  and  the  other  conspirators  as  "honorable" 
men.  At  first  he  seems  to  use  the  word  sincerely,  but  as  he 
slowly  gains  the  confidence  of  his  hearers,  it  becomes 
apparent  that  he  would  have  them  believe  the  conspirators 
quite  the  reverse  of  honorable.  Like  hyperbole,  irony  is 
used  much  too  freely,  thoughtlessly,  in  daily  speech, 
especially  the  contemptuous,  scornful,  taunting,  or  sneer- 
ing variety  known  as  sarcasm,  which  cuts  and  stings. 
In  short,  it  is  a  strong  weapon,  effective  if  properly  em- 
ployed, yet  out  of  place  save  when  the  speaker  is  moved  by 
righteous  indignation  or  justifiable  scorn. 

An  Apostrophe  is  a  figure  of  speech  in  which  inanimate 
objects  are  addressed  as  if  they  were  human  beings,  or 
persons  absent  are  addressed  as  if  they  were  present.  A 
stanza  in  Byron's  Childe  Harold  begins 

Oh  Rome!  my  country!  city  of  the  soul! 
The  orphans  of  the  heart  must  turn  to  thee, 
Lone  mother  of  dead  empires!  and  control 
In  their  shut  breasts  their  petty  misery. 


APPENDIX  333 

In  his  Ode  to  Napoleon  Bonaparte  occur  the  Hnes 

Ill-minded  man!  why  scourge  thy  kind 
Who  bow'd  so  low  the  knee? 

But  Napoleon  is  not  present;  the  words,  therefore,  are  an 
apostrophe. 

Antithesis  or  Contrast  is  a  figure  of  speech  in  which 
things  are  brought  into  prominence  by  being  placed  in  op- 
position.    It  is  found  in  single  sentences,  as  in  the  famihar 

To  err  is  human;  to  forgive,  divine. 

But  it  may  extend  through  several  sentences,  an  entire 
paragraph,  or  even  through  many  paragraphs. 

An  Epigram  is  well  defined  by  the  Standard  Dictionary 
as  ''a  pithy  or  antithetical  observation,  as  in  'The  child 
is  father  of  the  man'.''  Professor  Bain  describes  it  as 
*'an  apparent  contradiction  in  language,  which  by  causing 
a  temporary  shock,  rouses  our  attention  to  some  important 
meaning  underneath."  It  usually  takes  the  form  of  a 
single  brief  sentence. 

Climax  is  an  arrangement  by  which  the  interest  in- 
creases step  by  step,  the  more  important  or  the  more  in- 
teresting following  the  less  important  or  less  interesting, 
till  an  impressive  close  is  reached. 

Interrogation  is  a  figure  in  which  an  opinion  is  expressed, 
more  forcefully  than  would  be  possible  by  direct  state- 
ment, in  the  form  of  a  question  which  expects  no  answer. 

Exclamation  is  a  figure  in  which  sudden,  deep  emotion 
is  expressed  in  the  form  of  an  exclamatory  sentence  or 
phrase. 

Note. — For  exercises  to  accompany  this  section  see  page  218. 


336  APPENDIX 

Iambic  trimeter:  Hero  |  ic  wo  |  manhood 

Iambic  tetrameter:  It  hailed  |  the  ships  1  and  cried  |  "Sail  on" 

Iambic  pentameter:  The  qual  |  ity  |  of  mer  |  cy  is  |  not  strain'd 

Iambic  hexameter:  And  oft  |  en  knockt  |  his  breast,  |  as  one  | 
that  did  |  repent 

Trochaic  hexameter:  Dainty  |  little  |  maiden,  |  whither  | 
would  you  I  wander? 

Anapaestic  tetrameter:  With  the  fife  |  and  the  horn  |  and  the 
war-  I  beatmg  gong 

Dactyhc  dimeter:  Cannon  to  |  right  of  them 

Thus  we  have  convenient  names  for  many  different  kinds 
of  lines.  Comparatively  few  of  these,  however,  are  com- 
mon in  English  poetry. 

But  variety  does  not  stop  here.  A  succession  of  lines 
containing  none  but  iambic  feet,  for  example,  would  be  as 
monotonously  unmusical  as  the  sounds  which  come  from 
the  builder's  hammer.  Occasionally  the  regularity  must 
be  broken.  To  avoid  monotony,  or  to  gain  prominence 
for  some  particular  word  or  syllable  needing  emphasis,  a 
trochee  or  an  anapaest  may  be  substituted  for  an  iambus. 
Loosely  speaking,  all  kinds  of  feet  are  interchangeable. 
Moreover,  not  uncommonly  an  extra  unaccented  syllable 
is  found  at  the  end  of  a  line,  and  occasionally  just  before 
a  pronounced  pause  within  the  line.  A  final  or  an  initial 
unaccented  syllable  may  be  missing.  A  line  with  an  extra 
syllable  at  the  end  is  called  feminine;  a  line  in  which 
a  final  unaccented  syllable  is  missing  is  called  truncated. 
Notice  the  following: 

1.  Run  to  I  your  hou  |  ses,  fall  |  upon  |  your  knees 

2.  It  is  I  the  bright  |  day  that  |  brings  forth  |  the  ad  |  der. 


APPENDIX  337 

3.  So  strange  |  ly  you  daz  |  zle  my  eye 

4.  Lilies  |  whiter  |  than  the  |  snow 

5.  Know  ye  the  |  land  where  the  |  cypress  and  |  myrtle 

6.  Hated  |  by  one  1  he  loves;  |  brav'd  by  |  his  broth  |  er 

In  the  first  foot  of  the  first  line  a  trochee  is  substituted 
for  an  iambus.  In  the  second  example  we  note  the  added 
syllable  at  the  end,  making  the  line  feminine.  The  fourth 
line  is  truncated.  In  the  third,  an  iambus  takes  the  place 
of  an  anapaest;  in  the  fifth,  a  trochee  is  substituted  for  a 
dactyl.  The  last  line  contains  three  variations,  two  tro- 
chees in  place  of  iambics,  and  a  feminine  ending. 

Examples  might  easily  be  multiplied  with  a  view  to 
showing  still  other  devices  by  means  of  which  the  poet, 
though  bound  by  the  laws  of  verse  to  adhere  to  a  definite 
scheme,  manages  to  keep  the  scheme  from  being  too  boldly 
apparent.  For  instance  in  many  lines  there  is  found  what 
is  known  as  a  cesura,  a  pause  coming  sometimes  at  the  end 
of  a  foot,  sometimes  within  a  foot,  breaking  the  line  into 
two  phrases,  as  it  were.    We  notice  it  in  the  line 

Hated  |  by  one  |  he  loves;  ||  braved  by  |  his  broth  |  er 

where  it  occurs  after  the  third  foot ;  and  in  the  line 

Run  to  I  your  hous  |  es,  1 1  fall  |  upon  |  your  knees 

where  it  interrupts  the  third  foot.  The  trained  ear  gains 
not  a  little  pleasure  from  the  cesural  pause,  which  the 
skilled  poet  shifts  back  and  forth  from  foot  to  foot,  thus 
weaving  his  fines  together  and  softening  the  mechanical 
effect  produced  by  dividing  sentences  into  lines  of  a  pre- 
scribed length.  Yet  no  matter  what  changes  are  intro- 
duced, the  cadence  or  rhythmical  swing  which  charms 
the  ear  is  never  lost. 


338  APPENDIX 

By  far  the  most  common  line  in  English  poetry  is  the 
iambic  pentameter.  Unrhymed  iambic  pentameter  is 
called  blank  verse.  It  is  the  noblest  of  verse  forms,  most 
dignified,  appropriate  for  lofty  themes.  It  is  king  of  all 
English  meters.  We  find  it  in  Shakespeare's  plays,  in 
Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  and  in  Tennyson's  Idylls  of  the 
King.  It  is  not  arranged  in  line-groups  of  equal  size,  but 
is  paragraphed  hke  prose.  Some  one  has  said  that  blank, 
verse  is  the  easiest  of  all  forms  of  poetry  to  write,  but  the 
most  difficult  to  write  well.  It  is  easiest  because  it  does  not 
call  for  rhyming,  nor  for  any  variation  in  the  length  of  the 
line.  It  is  most  difficult  because  one  who  employs  it  must 
manage  to  make  his  lines  attractively  musical  and  im- 
pressive without  rhyming  them,  without  varying  their 
length  and  combining  them  in  stanza  form. 

Here  is  an  example  of  blank  verse,  with  the  meter 
marked  in  the  usual  way;  that  is,  the  stressed  syllables  are 
indicated  by  means  of  the  accent  sign  ('),  and  the  feet  are 
separated  by  means  of  little  lines  (  |  ) : 

t  r  t  t  t 

1.  The  qual  |  ity  |  of  mer  |  cy  is  |  not  strain'd; 

t  t  t  t  t 

2.  It  drop  I  peth  as  |  the  gen  |  tie  rain  |  from  heav'n 

3.  Upon  I  the  place  1  beneath;  I  it  is  i  twice  blest, 

t  t  t  t      ■  t 

4.  It  bless  I  eth  him  |  that  gives  |  and  him  |  that  takes: 

f  ft  t  f 

5.  'Tis  might  |  iest  in  |  the  might  |  iest :  it  |  becomes 

/  »  t  t  t 

6.  The  thron  |  ed  mon  |  arch  bet  |  ter  than  |  his  crown; 

/  t  t  r  t 

7.  His  seep  |  ter  shows  ]  the  force  |  of  tem  |  poral  pow  |  er, 

r  f  r  ft 

8.  The  at  |  tribute  |  to  awe  |  and  maj  |  esty, 

t  t  t  t  t 

9.  Wherein  |  doth  sit  1  the  dread  |  and  fear  |  of  kings, 

t  r  t  t  I 

10.  But  mer  |  cy  is  |  above  |  this  seep  |  ter'd  sway; 

t  t  t  t  * 

11.  It  is  I  enthron  |  ed  in  |  the  hearts  |  of  kings, 


APPENDIX  339 

/  /  /  t  / 

12.  It  is  I  an  at  I  tribute  |  to  God  |  himself; 

/  /  t  f  I 

13.  And  earth  |  ly  power  |  doth  then  |  show  Uk  |  est  God's, 

14.  When  mer  |  cy  sea  |  sons  jus  |  tice. 

Notice  that  each  line  save  the  last,  which  is  incomplete, 
contains  five  accents,  not  all  of  them  equally  important,  it 
is  true,  yet  all  falling  upon  syllables  which  might  receive 
some  degree  of  emphasis  in  prose;  and  that  most  of  the 
feet  are  iambic,  so  that  nearly  every  line  contains  ten 
syllables.  There  are  a  few  exceptions.  In  the  second  line, 
heaven  must  be  pronounced  as  if  it  were  one  syllable;  the 
second  syllable  is  barely  sounded  even  in  prose.  In  the 
fifth  line,  mightiest  is  treated  as  if  it  were  a  word  of  two 
syllables;  w^e  seldom  make  three  of  it,  even  in  prose.  Such 
slurring,  or  running  together  of  unimportant  syllables,  is 
common  in  all  poetry.  In  the  sixth  line,  we  note  the 
opposite  device,  a  word  ordinarily  pronounced  as  one 
syllable  made  into  two.  Final  -ed  is  frequently  so  treated. 
In  the  seventh  hne  the  fifth  foot  is  an  anapaest,  unless  the 
reader  prefers  to  run  together  two  syllables;  and  the  line 
has  a  feminine  ending.  Or  power  may  be  treated  as  if  it 
were  one  syllable,  as  doubtless  it  should  be  treated  in  the 
thirteenth  line.  Such  changes  as  those  pointed  out  are  so 
common  that  the  reader  hardly  notices  them;  the  iambic 
swing  carries  him  along  from  line  to  line  irresistibly.  It 
is  only  when  we  stop  to  analyze,  that  they  become  ap- 
parent. 

Almost  as  simple  in  structure  as  blank  verse  is  the  heroic 
couplet — iambic  pentameter  lines  rhymed  in  pairs.  Like 
blank  verse,  it  is  not,  as  a  rule,  arranged  in  stanzas,  but  is 
paragraphed  like  prose.  It  is  used  in  long  narrative  poems. 
Chaucer  and  Dryden  and  Pope  employ  it  freely.  At  its 
best  it  is  very  good;  when  poorly  managed,  it  becomes 
cheap  and  singsongy.    Some  one  has  called  it  the  rocking- 


340  APPENDIX 

horse  measure,  because  the  first  hue  of  each  couplet  seems 
to  go  up — up — up,  the  second  down — down — down;  and 
between  couplets  there  is  apt  to  be  quite  a  pause,  as  if 
the  entire  poem  were  divided  into  two-line  links  partially 
independent  of  one  another.  Here  is  an  example  taken 
from  Pope's  translation  of  the  Iliad: 

Thus  hav  |  ing  spoke  |  th'  illus  |  trious  chief  |  of  Troy 
Stretched  his  |  fond  arms  |  to  clasp  |  the  love  |  ly  boy. 
The  babe  |  clung  cry  |  ing  to  |  his  nur  |  se's  breast, 
Scar'd  at  |  the  daz  |  zling  helm  |  and  nod  |  ding  crest. 
With  se  I  cret  pleas  |  ure  each  |  fond  par  |  ent  smil'd. 
And  Hec  |  tor  hast  |  ed  to  |  relieve  |  his  child; 
The  glit  I  tering  ter  |  rors  from  |  his  brow  |  unbound, 
And  placed  |  the  beaming  1  hel  |  met  on  |  the  ground. 
Then  kiss'd  |  the  child,  |  and,  lift  |  ing  high  |  in  air, 
Thus  to  I  the  gods  |  preferred  |  a  f a  |  ther's  prayer: 

Two  lines  rhyming  together,  as  in  the  measure  just  de- 
scribed, are  called  a  couplet,  regardless  of  their  length  or 
the  kind  of  foot  employed.  Three  lines  rhyming  together 
are  called  a  triplet.  Triplets  are  usually  printed  in  stanza 
form.  Here  are  the  opening  lines  of  one  of  Tennyson's 
songs : 

Oh !  what  |  is  so  sweet  |  as  a  morn  |  ing  in  spring, 

When  the  gale  |  is  all  fresh  |  ness,  and  larks  |  on  the  wing, 

In  clear  |  liquid  car  |  ols  their  grat  |  itude  sing? 

I  rove  I  o'er  the  hill  |  as  it  spark  |  les  with  dew, 
And  the  red  |  flush  of  Phoe  |  bus  with  ec  |  stasy  view. 
As  he  breaks  |  thro'  the  east  |  o'er  thy  crags,  |  Benvenu! 

Far  more  common  than  the  triple  rhyme  is  the  four  line 
stanza  or  quatrain.  The  rhymes  may  be  in  various  com- 
binations. In  the  first  of  the  following  quatrains,  it  will  be 
noted  that  the  first  line  rhymes  with  the  last,  the  second 
with  the  third;  in  the  second,  the  first  line  rhymes  with 


APPENDIX  341 

the  third,  the  second  with  the  fourth.  The  third  quatrain 
is  made  up  of  two  couplets;  and  in  the  last  quatrain  there 
is  but  a  single  rhyme,  that  between  the  second  and  fourth 
lines. 

I  hold  I  it  truth  |  with  him  |  who  sings 
To  one  |  clear  harp  |  in  di  |  vers  tones, 
That  men  |  may  rise  |  on  step  |  ping-stones 
Of  their  |  dead  selves  |  to  high  |  er  things. 

Once  more  |  the  gate  |  behind  |  me  falls* 

Once  more  |  before  |  my  face 
I  see  I  the  moul  |  der'd  Ab  |  bey-walls 

That  stand  |  within  |  the  chace. 

You  must  wake  |  and  call  |  me  ear  |  ly,  call  |  me  ear  |  ly, 

moth  I  er  dear: 
To-mor  |  row  'ill  be  |  the  hap  |  piest  time  |  of  all  |  the  glad  | 

New-year; 
Of  all  I  the  glad  |  New-year,  |  mother,  |  the  mad  |  dest,  mer-  | 

riest  day; 
For  I'm  I  to  be  Queen  |  o'  the  May,  |  mother,  I'm  |  to  be 

Queen  |  o'  the  May. 

It  is  I  an  an  I  cient  Mar  |  iner 
And  he  stop  |  peth  one  |  of  three. 
"By  thy  long  |  gray  beard  j  and  glit  |  tering  eye 
Now  where  |  fore  stopp'st  |  thou  me?  " 

By  varying  not  only  the  rhyme  but  the  length  of  line,  the 
quatrain  may  be  made  to  assume  a  great  many  forms,  as 
any  hymnal  will  show,  for  the  quatrain  is  a  favorite  with 
writers  of  hymns. 

Of  the  many  other  stanza  forms,  but  two  will  be  men- 
tioned, the  Spenserian  and  the  sonnet.  The  former,  so 
named  because  used  by  Spenser  in  his  Fosrie  Queene,  con- 
tains nine  lines,  all  save  the  last  being  iambic  pentameters; 
the  ninth  is  an  iambic  hexameter,  or  Alexandrine,-  as  it  is 
called.     The  first  and  third  lines  rhyme;  the  second, 


342  APPENDIX 

fourth,  fifth,  and  seventh;  and  the  sixth,  eighth,  and  ninth. 
Here  is  an  example: 

At  length  |  they  chaunst  ]  to  meet  |  upon  ]  the  way 

An  ag  I  ed  Sire,  |  in  long  |  blacke  weedes  |  yclad, 

His  feete  |  all  bare,  |  his  beard  |  all  hoar  |  ie  gray, , 

And  by  |  his  belt  |  his  booke  |  he  hang  |  ing  had. 

Sober  |  he  seemde,  |  and  ve  |  ry  sage  |  ly  sad, 

And  to  I  the  ground  |  his  eyes  \  were  low  j  ly  bent, 

Simple  I  in  shew,  |  and  void  |  of  mal  |  ice  bad; 

And  all  |  the  way  |  he  pray  |  ed  as  |  he  went 

And  of  I  ten  knockt  |  his  breast,  |  as  one  |  that  did  |  repent. 

The  sonnet  is  a  complete  poem  of  fourteen  iambic  pen- 
tameter lines,  the  rhyming  scheme  varying  with  different 
authors.    Here  is  one  of  Wordsworth's  best : 

The  World  |  is  too  1  much  with  |  us;  late  |  and  soon, 
Getting  |  and  spend  |  ing,  we  |  lay  waste  |  our  powers; 
Little  I  we  see  |  in  Na  |  ture  that  |  is  ours; 
We  have  giv  |  en  our  hearts  |  away,  |  a  sor  |  did  boon! 
This  Sea  |  that  bares  |  her  bos  |  om  to  |  the  moon. 
The  winds  |  that  will  |  be  howl  |  ing  at  |  all  hours 
And  are  |  up-gath  |  erd  now  |  like  sleep  |  ing  flowers, 
For  this,  |  for  ev  |  ery  thing,  |  we  are  out  |  of  tune; 
It  moves  I  us  not.  |  — Great  God!  |  I'd  ra  |  ther  be 
A  Pa  I  gan  suck  |  led  in  |  a  creed  |  outworn, — 
So  might  I  I,  stand  |  ing  on  |  this  pleas  |  ant  lea, 
Have  glimp  |  ses  that  |  would  make  |  me  less  |  forlorn; 
Have  sight  |  of  Pro  |  tens  ris  |  ing  from  |  the  sea; 
Or  hear  |  old  Tri  |  ton  blow  |  his  wreath  |  ed  horn. 

A  convenient  way  of  indicating  rhyming  schemes  is  by 
means  of  letters.  Thus  if  the  first  two  lines  of  a  poem 
rhyme,  it  is  indicated  by  aa;  if  the  first  rhymes  with  the 
third  and  the  second  with  the  fourth,  by  a  b  a  b.  The  rhym- 
ing scheme  of  the  Wordsworth  sonnet  would  therefore  be 
represented  as  follows :  a  b  b  a,  a  b  b  a,  c  d,  c d,  c  d;  and  the 
Spenserian  stanza  thus  :abba,  bcbc,  c.  The  commas  are 
perhaps  unnecessary,  but  are  sometimes  helpful  in  so 


APPENDIX  343 

grouping  the  rhymes  that  they  are  more  easily  remembered. 
By  means  of  this  device,  and  the  terminology  already 
given,  it  is  possible  to  define  any  stanza.  Thus  a  complete 
description  of  the  quatrain  beginning  It  is  an  Ancient 
Mariner  would  be  this :  It  is  a  stanza  of  four  iambic  lines, 
the  first  and  third  tetrameters,  the  second  and  fourth 
trimeters,  with  the  rhyming  scheme  a  b  c  b. 

Closely  related  to  rhyme  is  the  device  called  alliteration, 
or  the  regular  recurrence  of  an  initial  letter  or  sound  in 
the  accented  parts  of  words.    Notice  the  following  lines: 

1.  Elaine  the  fair,  Elaine  the  lovable, 
Elaine  the  lily  maid  of  Astolat 

2.  With  prudes  for  proctors,  dowagers  for  deans, 
And  sweet  girl-graduates  in  their  golden  hair 

In  the  first  quotation,  the  poet  plays  a  little  tune  with  the 
letter  I.  In  the  second,  p  and  d  form  alliterative  pairs,  and 
g  is  three  times  repeated.  '  A  less  noble  example  is  found  in 
the  familiar  Peter  Piper  picked  a  peck  of  pickled  peppers. 
It  is  hardly  necessary  to  mention  the  cheap  alliterations 
found  in  newspaper  headings  and  in  advertisements. 
Skilfully  employed,  alliteration  adds  materially  to  the 
charm  of  verse.  In  Anglo-Saxon  poetry,  it  takes  the  place 
of  rhyme  altogether. 

Associated  in  a  way  with  alliteration  is  onomatopoeia,  a 
device  much  simpler  than  its  name,  by  means  of  which  the 
sounds  of  words  are  made  to  suggest  that  which  the  words 
describe.  Onomatopoeia  is  not  always  directly  imitative 
as  in  the  words  whiz,  bang,  gurgle;  usually,  when  employed 
by  the  skilled  writer  of  poetry  or  prose,  it  is  merely  sug- 
gestive. In  Tennyson's  The  Northern  Farmer,  a  father  is 
urging  his  son  to  marry  for  money,  or  "property".  He 
introduces  the  subject  in  this  way: 

Doesn't  thou  'ear  my  'erse's  [horse's]  legs,  as  they  canters  awaay? 
Proputty,  proputty,  proputty — that's  what  I  'ears  'em  saay. 


344  APPENEIX 

The  proputty,  proputty,  proputty  suggests  unmistakably 
the  sound  of  the  horse's  hoofs.  Though  one  has  never 
studied  Latin,  he  can  hardly  fail  to  catch  the  hoof-beat 
in  the  following  line : 

Quad  ru  pe  |  d^nte  pu  |  trem,  soni  |  tii  quatit  |  lingula  |  campum. 

In  Browning's  Up  at  a  Villa  occurs  the  line 

'^  Bang-whang-whang  goes  the  drum,  tootle-te-tootle  the  fife. 

And  here  we  have  a  more  delicate  degree  of  onomatopoeia : 

I  heard  the  ripple  washing  in  the  reeds 
And  the  wild  water  lapping  on  the  crag. 

In  these  illustrations,  the  device  is  easily  detected,  for  in 
each  case  there  is  direct  imitation,  or  at  least  the  sound 
echoes  the  sense.  Sometimes,  however,  the  reader  merely 
feels  that  the  words  are  appropriate,  feels  that  the  sounds 
are  not  only  in  harmony  with  one  another,  but  in  harmony 
with  the  sense. 

For  convenience  of  reference,  the  technical  terms  of 
versification  are  here  brought  together: 

Accent:  The  emphasis  which  the  voice  gives  a  syllable 
to  show  that  it  is  of  more  importance  than  neighboring 
syllables. 

Rhythm:  The  swing  or  movement  imparted  by  the 
occurrence  of  stressed  or  accented  syllables  at  regular 
intervals. 

Meter:  The  rhythmical  arrangement  of  words. 

Verse:  A  line  of  poetry. 

Foot:  A  group  of  syllables  one  of  which  is  always  ac- 
cented; a  unit  of  rhythm. 

Iambus:  A  foot  of  two  syllables  the  second  of  which 
receives  the  accent. 


APPENDIX  345 

Trochee:  A  foot  of  two  syllables  the  first  of  which  re- 
ceives the  accent. 

Anapaest:  A  foot  of  three  syllables  the  last  of  which 
receives  the  accent. 

Dactyl:  A  foot  of  three  syllables  the  first  of  which  re- 
ceives the  accent. 

Amphibrach:  A  foot  of  three  syllables,  the  second  of 
which  receives  the  accent. 

Monometer:  A  line  containing  one  metrical  foot. 

Dimeter:  A  line  containing  two  metrical  feet. 

Trimeter:  A  line  containing  three  metrical  feet. 

Tetrameter:  A  line  containing  four  metrical  feet. 

Pentameter:  A  line  containing  five  metrical  feet. 

Hexameter:  A  line  containing  six  metrical  feet. 

Heptameter:  A  line  containing  seven  metrical  feet. 

Octameter:  A  line  containing  eight  metrical  feet. 

Feminine  Line:  A  line  containing  an  extra  unaccented 
syllable  at  the  end. 

Truncated  Line:  A  line  in  which  a  final  unaccented  syl- 
lable is  missing. 

Rhyme:  Similarity  of  sound,  usually  found  at  the  end  of 
lines. 

Alliteration:  Regular  occurrence  of  an  initial  letter  or 
sound  in  the  accented  parts  of  words  of  poetry. 

Onomatopoeia:  Use  of  words  the  sounds  of  which  suggest 
the  sense. 

Stanza:  A  group  of  metrically  related  lines;  a  minor 
division  of  a  poem. 

Blank  Verse:  Unrhymed  poetry,  normally  iambic  pen- 
tameter. 

Couplet:  Two  consecutive  lines,  usually  rhyming. 

Heroic  Couplet:  Iambic  pentameter  lines  rhymed  in  pairs. 

Triplet:  Three  consecutive  lines,  usually  rhyming. 

Quatrain:  A  four  line  stanza. 


346  APPENDIX 

Spenserian  Stanza:  Eight  iambic  pentameter  lines 
followed  by  an  iambic  hexameter  (Alexandrine)  line,  the 
rhyming  scheme  being  ababbcbcc. 

Italian  Sonnet:  A  poem  of  fourteen  iambic  pentameter 
lines,  an  eight  line  group  followed  by  a  six  line  group,  the 
rhyming  scheme  of  the  first  being  abbaabba,  of  the 
second  cdcdcdorcdecde. 

Note. — For  exercises  to  accompany  this  section,  see  page  209. 


D 

THEMES   FOR   ESSAYS   AND   ORATIONS 

The  following  loosely  classified  lists  of  subjects  appro- 
priate for  school  essays  and  orations  are  from  Theme- 
book  in  English  Composition. 


The  mistakes  of  my  high  school  course 

What  I  shall  remember  with  greatest  pleasure  after  graduation 

What  mechanical  drawing  has  done  for  me 

What  constitutes  popularity  in  the  high  school 

Who's  who  in  high  school 

The  value  of  the  study  of  English 

High  school  politics 

Getting  ready  for  class  day 

The  ideal  school  paper 

The  value  of  art  training  in  everyday  life 

The  English  system  of  education  versus  the  American 

Democracy  in  the  high  school 

A  day  in  the  commercial  department 

An  hour  in  the  laboratory 

A  study  in  seniors 

How  our  building  is  heated 

A  description  of  the  gymnasium  on  a  gala  occasion 

A  review  of  the  latest  issue  of  the  school  paper 

A  famous  school 


APPENDIX  347 


The  humorous  side  of  school  life 

The  ideal  senior 

An  hour  in  the  studio 

The  ultimate  good  to  be  derived  from  athletics 

The  value  of  the  study  of  the  drama 

How  our  school  prepares  for  good  citizenship 

What  I  have  received  from  the  course  in 


My  bad  manners 

A  shelf  of  old  books 

Summer  workdays 

My  very  little  sister's  ways 

My  summer  reading 

Some  of  my  relatives 

Watching  the  children  play 

Getting  up  in  the  morning 

Looking  over  a  chest  of  old  toys 

The  transformation  of  my  ideals 

My  friend  the  inventor 

Dusting  my  books 

What  goes  against  my  grain 

A  driftwood  fire 

My  air  castles 

Three  of  my  friends  and  why  I  like  them 


October  skies 

Plant  tragedies  that  I  have  witnessed 

A  study  of  leaves 

How  spring  comes  up  our  way 

Harvest  time  in  the  wheat  lands 

A  geological  expedition 

A  bird  episode 

Fishes  and  their  ways 

The  heavens  in  November 

How  nature  cleans  house  now  and  then 

Everyday  wonders  of  nature 

The  voices  of  the  night 

The  seashore  in  winter 


348  APPENDIX 

How  the  blind  boy  knows  that  spring  is  coming 

When  the  tide  comes  in 

In  the  apple  orchard 

What  I  found  in  a  tide  pool 

Between  darkness  and  dawn 

How  our  town  wakes  up  in  the  morning 

Where  the  cardinals  grow 

My  favorite  haunts 

The  wander-spirit 

How  birds  prepare  for  the  winter 

The  life  of  a  bee 

Watching  a  spider 

The  survival  of  the  fittest  in  plant  life 

Along  the  water  front 

Bird  songs 

The  Audubon  Society 

A  mountain  camp  in  winter 

The  human  eye  and  the  camera 

John  Burroughs 

The  sounds  heard  in  ten  minutes  in  the  heart  of  a  woods 

The  sounds  heard  in  ten  minutes  at  midday 


Modes  of  travel,  past  and  present 

Self-hardened  and  air-hardened  steel 

The  steam  engine  indicator 

The  history  of  photography 

What  became  of  a  tree 

The  farm  of  the  future 

New  York  in  2000 

A  visit  to  a  pottery 

Modern  miracles  of  science 

A  blast  furnace 

A  lesson  in  forestry 

History  of  a  plant  from  germ  to  decay 

A  sulphur  match 

The  old  housekeeper  and  the  new 

The  Carnegie  Institute  for  Research 

A  journey  in  the  carboniferous  era 

Waste  material 


APPENDIX  349 


Uses  of  compressed  air 

Modes  of  ventilation 

The  telepost 

A  gas  engine 

The  gold  beater 

A  stone  arch 

Street  paving 

Batteries 

A  steam  turbine 

The  X-ray  machine 

Geissler  tubes 

A  talking  machine 

The  kinetoscope 


5 


My  favorite  picture 

Making  an  art  of  a  homely  trade 

The  mission  of  the  musician 

Something  about  poetry 

What  it  means  to  get  an  education  in  art 

How  to  study  a  picture 

Does  our  town  appreciate  music? 

The  musical  treats  of  the  winter  just  past 

Spires  and  towers  of  our  town 

's  sky-line 

as  seen  from  a  distance  at  various  times 

Quaint  architecture  in  our  town 

A  visit  to  a  studio 

A  talk  with  an  artist 

Art  in  common  things 

What  practical  use  a  schoolgirl  may  make  of  her  training  in  art 

The  oratorio  Messiah  described 

My  favorite  composer 

Some  of  our  little-appreciated  art  treasures 

Our  music  club 

The  trials  of  an  accompanist 

An  appreciation  of  Whistler 

St.  Gaudens 

Beethoven 

Dvorak  and  his  music 

Sargent  and  his  work 


350  APPENDIX 

6 
The  Children's  Crusade 
At  the  court  of  Louis  XIV 

Old  guilds,  forerunners  of  the  trade  unions  of  today 
The  settlement  of  Jamestown 
Athens  and  Sparta 
A  bit  of  early  local  history 
Sightseeing  in  London  in  Elizabeth's  day 
A  day  at  the  Club  with  Johnson 
The  Tories  of  the  Revolution 
The  Puritan  spirit 
Knickerbocker  life  in  colonial  days 
Etiquette  in  colonial  times 
Life  in  the  South  before  the  war 

A  balloon  trip  over  England  in  the  days  of  William  the  Con- 
queror 
What  it  meant  to  be  an  Elizabethan 
A  prowl  through  Bede's  history 
Exploring  the  Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle 
Shakespeare's  Csesar  and  the  Csesar  of  history 
The  fate  of  Finland 
Sir  Philip  Sidney 
Beau  Brummel 
Magellan 
Benedict  Arnold 
Daniel  Boone 
Pere  Marquette 
Zenobia 

7 
This  age  of  chivalry 
Uncrowned  kings 
Keys 
Dreamers 

The  poor  millionaire 

Saints  (no  saints — would-be  saints — almost  saints — saints) 
The  stone  that  fits  in  the  wall  will  never  lie  by  the  way. 
The  little  tin  god  called  Luck 
The  playthings  of  grown-ups 
Windows 
Doors 


APPENDIX  351 

A  good  word  for  play 

A  defense  of  Peter  Pan 

The  social  acrobat 

Given:  a  sense  of  humor 

Fashion  plates 

"Simon  says  thumbs  up"  in  society  and  politics 

Vegetable  rights 

A  good  word  for  manual  labor 

The  mind  is  its  own  dwelling-place. 

Ugly  ducklings  (after  reading  Andersen's  The  Ugly  Duckling) 

Courtesy  at  home  and  abroad 

Monuments 

The  twentieth  century  knight 

Paddle  your  own  canoe. 

The  world  is  too  much  with  us. 

Latter-day  heroines 

The  joys  of  the  poor 

Why  keep  a  dog? 

Not  so  bad  as  painted 

Present-day  superstitions 

Playthings 

Specimen  relatives 

Gifts  and  gift  giving 

Tramps,  wise  and  otherwise 

Beggars  (of  various  sorts) 

"All  the  rage" 

Patent  medicines 

The  simplicity  of  housekeeping 

The  ways  of  little  children 

The  joy  of  indiscriminate  reading 

Waste 

The  Gloucester  fisherman 

A  library  for  a  castaway 

The  passing  of  the  woodshed 

A  plea  for  simplicity 

A  stitch  in  time 

Newspaper  heroes 

Uneasy  rests  the  head  that  wears  a  crovm. 

Sources  of  power 

Present-day  opportunity 


352  APPENDIX 

Tests 

Business  honor 

Optimism,  good  and  bad 

Silent  conquests 

Popularity 

The  influence  of  the  picture  postal 

Human  mosquitoes 

The  croaker 

Front  yards  and  back  yards 

Reforming  a  tramp 

Shopping  with  a  bargain  hunter 

8 

An  old  man's  dream 

The  story  the  old  house  told 

The  story  of  an  old  book 

A  national  exposition  of  the  next  century 

The  magic  wand  of  childhood 

The  history  of  a  street 

An  important  meeting  of  a  girls'  club 

Good-by,  fairyland  • 

The  reflection  of  a  mirror 

The  doctor  of  fifty  years  hence 

A  modern  fairy-tale 

The  immigrant  child's  dream 

A  dream  in  the  public  library 

9 

George  Junior  republics 

How  criminals  are  made 

Street  arabs 

Undesirable  citizens 

Conservation  of  national  energies 

College  settlements 

Juvenile  courts 

Woman's  invasion  of  the  business  world 

Is  democracy  degenerating? 

The  power  of  conventionality 

Manual  training  at  home 

Billboards 


APPENDIX  353 

Amusement  parks 

The  New  England  village 

Public  calamity  is  a  mighty  leveler. 

The  Red  Cross  Society 

International  sports 

The  cost  of  municipal  ugliness 

Workshops  for  boys 

Library  curses 

In  Utopia 

The  business  value  of  humor 

Pure  foods 

The  justice  of  the  jury 

The  observance  of  public  holidays 

The  American  girl's  inheritance 

The  cartoonist 

How  children  are  protected 

Our  debt  to  the  immigrant 

Shotgun  civihzation 

Advertising 

Postal  reforms 

Good  citizenship  from  a  boy's  standpoint 

10 

Nature  as  seen  in  Beowulf  and  the  Canterbury  Tales 

Old  English  life  as  seen  in  Beowulf 

Costumes  m  Chaucer's  day 

Two  heroes:  Beowulf  and  Roland 

Present-day  pilgrims 

Brutus|s  speech  in  blank  verse 

Cassius's  speech  in  blank  verse 

Likable  traits  in  Gareth 

Hepzibah  Pyncheon 

National  hjnnns 

Scottish  peasantry  as  seen  in  the  poems  of  Bums 

Storybook  villains,  cowards,  heroes,  or  heroines 

Greek  myths 

Homer's  comparisons 

Addison  as  a  reformer  today 

The  gift  of  saying  things 

A  ramble  with  Boswell 


354  APPENDIX 

Do  we  need  a  national  theatre? 

An  expedition  in  the  land  of  words 

A  perfectly  satisfactory  hero 

The  art  of  letter-writing 

Childhood  myths 

Helen  of  Troy's  diary 

The  theatre  in  1616 

An  hour  with  the  dictionary 

Dogs  in  literature 

How  to  use  the  library 

Heroes :  Achilles,  Palamon,  Ivanhoe 

Everyman,  a  morality 

Play-tricks  and  conventions 

Louisa  M.  Alcott 

Samuel  Johnson 

Hans  Andersen 

Thoreau 

Five  pictures  from  the  life  of  Macbeth 

Macduff's  part  in  Macbeth 

How builds  an  essay 

The  literary  art  of  Macaulay 

The  songs  of  Scotland 

More,  an  old  time  dreamer 

The  Cook's  tale  (Chaucer)  retold  for  children 

Stray  thoughts  about  play-going 

A  typical  work  of  the  eighteenth  century 

Lady  Macbeth 

The  art  of  seeing  things 

Rab  and  Bob,  Son  b'  Battle 

The  historical  novel 

The  works  of  Henty 

Self-cultivation  in  English 

National  songs 

The  ideal  king 

Manhood  ideals:  Macbeth,  Banquo,  Macduff 

Walden 

Good  magazines  and  bad 

The  secret  of  Burke's  power 

The  maxims  of  Edmund  Burke 

Thoughts  from  Gray's  Elegy 


APPENDIX  355 

The  good  and  the  bad  in  Macaulay's  style 

The  manufacture  of  plays  and  stories 

My  favorite  author 

Milton's  unreproved  pleasures 

My  favorite  play 

Readers,  old  and  new 

Robinson  Crusoe 

Gentlemen  of  the  old  school:  Sir  Roger  and  Dr.  Primrose 

Goldsmith  as  story-teller 

Athletic  contests  of  long  ago 

Tragic  heroes:  Macbeth  and  Brutus 

JEsop 

The  kingly  traits  of  Arthur 

Mark  Twain 

The  love  of  nature  as  seen  in  David's  psalms 

Story  children 

Juvenile  literature 

Review  of  Last  of  the  Mohicans,  Oregon  Trail,  Bottle  Imp,  The 
Great  Hoggarty  Diamond,  Kenilworth,  David  Copperfield, 
Mill  on  the  Floss,  An  Old  Fashioned  Girl,  The  Wide,  Wide 
World,  Deephaven,  Captains  Courageous,  Waverley,  the  works 
of  J.  M.  Barrie 

11 

Should  cartooning  the  president  be  prohibited  by  law? 
Should  a  senator  be  guided  by  his  own  judgment  or  by  the 

wishes  of  his  constituents? 
Do  national  expeditions  pay? 
Is  Macaulay  a  greater  writer  than  Burke? 
Is  the  Ben  Greet  idea  correct? 
Should  children  read  Mother  Goose  literature? 
Is  the  Conciliation  speech  a  proper  classic  for  seniors  to  read? 
Are  Shakespeare's  heroines  satisfactory? 
Is  Jack  London  a  nature  fakir? 

Should  the  Old  Testament  be  studied  in  public  schools? 
Do  we  need  an  endowed  newspaper? 
Should  class  day  be  abolished? 
For  general  culture,  which  offers  the  greater  inducements,  a 

classical  college  or  a  scientific  school? 
Would  it  be  well  for  the  debating  club  to  devote  one  meeting 

each  month  to  non-argumentative  literary  exercises? 


356  APPENDIX 

Is  the  interest  in  high  school  athletics  declining?    If  so,  why? 

Should  sewing  be  made  a  compulsory  study  for  high  school 
girls? 

Should  all  high  school  boys  be  made  to  take  a  course  in  car- 
pentry? 

Which  offers  the  greater  inducements,  Annapolis  or  West  Point? 

Is  a  general  education  best  for  one  who  is  to  be  a  musician? 

Should  modern  novels  be  read  in  classroom? 

Is  a  college  course  necessary  for  a  business  career? 

Should  the  prophecy  be  dropped  from  the  class  day  program? 

Which  shall  it  be,  office  or  drafting  room? 

Which  shall  it  be,  normal  school  or  college? 


E 

A   SPECIMEN   BRIEF 

This  specimen  brief,  of  Lord  Chatham's  speech  on  his 
motion  for  the  immediate  removal  of  the  British  troops 
from  Boston,  is  taken,  by  kind  permission,  from  Pro- 
fessor Baker's  Specimens  of  Argumentation,  Perhaps 
those  of  high  school  age  should  not  be  expected  to  pre- 
pare elaborate  briefs;  yet  there  are  times  when  it  is  con- 
venient to  have  at  hand  a  trustworthy  model. 

INTRODUCTION 
I 
The  present  course  of  the  Ministry  suggests  unfairness. 

II 

The  Ministry  has  been  guilty  of  unfairness,  namely  of  mis- 
representation, for 

(a)  Their  representations  that  led  to  the  passage  of  the  meas- 
ures obnoxious  to  the  American  people  have  been  proved 
false,  for 

(1)  The  ministers  said  that  these  measures  would  overawe 
the  Americans,  but  the  measures  have  solidified  the  re- 
sistance of  the  Americans. 


APPENDIX  357 

III 

Therefore,  the  troops  should  be  immediately  withdrawn  from 
Boston. 

rv 

But  a  hearer,  in  considering  this  attempt  at  justice,  should 
remember  that  to  try  to  be  just  to  America  is  not  necessarily  to 
exempt  her  from  all  obedience  to  Great  Britain 


BRIEF  PROPER 


The  removal  of  the  troops  is  necessary,  because 

A.  It  will  show  the  willingness  of  the  English  to  treat  amic- 
ably. 

B.  The  resistance  of  the  Americans  was  necessary  because 

I.  The  obnoxious  acts  of  Parhament  were  tyrannical. 

C.  The  means  of  enforcing  the  measures  of  Parliament  have 
failed,  for 

I.  The  army  of  General  Gage  is  "penned  up — pining  in 
inglorious  inactivity." 

II.  The  objection  that  the  presence  of  this  army  in  Boston 
is  a  safeguard  is  untrue,  for 

(a)  It  is  powerless,  and  held  in  contempt. 

(b)  It  is  an  irritation  to  the  Americans. 

(c)  The  objection  that  General  Gage  is  needlessly 
inactive  is  untrue,  for 

(1)  Any  activity  on  his  part  would  mean  "civil 
and  unnatural  war." 

D.  If  Parliament  tries  by  the  aid  of  the  army  to  enforce  its 
measures,  the  result  will  be  bad,  for 

I.  If  Parliament  were  victorious,  it  would  be  over  an  em- 
bittered people. 

II.  The  troops  are  not  strong  enough  to  resist  three  mil- 
lion united,  courageous  people. 

III.  Persecution  of  these  men  whose  fathers  left  their 
homes  to  escape  it  should  cease,  since 

(a)  The  objection  of  the  Ministry  that  the  Americans 
"must  not  be  heard"  is  unjust,  since 

(1)  It  "lumps  the  innocent  with  the  guilty." 


358  APPENDIX 

E.  The  statement  that  "the  union  in  America  cannot  last'' 
is  untrue,  for 

I.  The  evidence  of  the  so-called  "commercial  bodies" 
is  unreliable,  for 

(a)  They  do  not  really  represent  the  class  for  whom 

they  profess  to  speak, 
(6)  And  they  are  paid  agents  of  the  Government, 
(c)  Even  if  they  did  represent  the  commercial  class  of 

America,  their  judgment  would  be  untrustworthy, 

for 

(1)  Not  the  commercial  class,  but  the  farming 
class,  are  the  strength  of  a  nation; 

(2)  And  the  American  farmers  are  unitedly  ar- 
rayed for  liberty. 

II.  The  evidence  of  an  authority  (Dr.  Franklin  plainly 
hinted)  proves  that  the  Americans,  for  the  sake  of 
liberty,  would  endure  far  more  than  they  have  as  yet 
suffered,  even  war  and  rapine. 

F.  The  statement  that  the  Americans  should  be  punished  for 
illegal  violence  is  untrue,  for 

I.  A  chance  for  reconciliation  should  not  be  missed. 

II.  Thirty  thousand  in  Boston  should  not  be  punished 
for  the  fault  of  forty  or  fifty. 

III.  Punishment  means  arousing  the  unappeasable  wrath 
of  the  whole  American  people. 

IV.  Even  if  the  English  people  are  victorious,  they  cannot 
control  the  great  tracts  of  conquered  country. 

V.  The  resistance  should  have  been  foreseen,  for 

(a)  The  spirit  that  resists  in  America  is  that  of  all 
EngUsh  stock,  that  which  established  the  essential 
maxim  of  English  liberty,  "No  taxation  without 
the  consent  of  the  taxed." 

VI.  The  resistance  will  become  too  strong  to  be  overcome, 
for 

(a)  The  English  Whigs  will  aid  them,  for 
(1)  The  spirit  that  moves  the  Americans  is  that 
which  has  always  belonged  to  the  Whigs. 
(6)  The  Irish  will  aid  them,  for 

(1)  They  have  always  maintained  the  ideas  the 
Americans  support, 
(c)  The  means  to  oppose  this  united  body  is  weak,  for 


APPENDIX  359 

(1)  A  few  regiments  in  America  and  18,000  men 
at  home  must  oppose  three  milhon  Americans, 
milhons  of  Enghshmen,  and  all  the  Irish. 

(2)  And  ministerial  tricks  against  it  will  fail, 
for 

(a)  The  result  must  inevitably  be  a  "check- 
mate" for  the  ministers. 
G.  This  removal  of  the  troops  must  precede  any  other  step, 
because 

I.  The  fear  and  the  resentment  of  the  Americans  must 
first  of  all  be  remedied; 

II.  While  the  troops  remain,  resentment  will  remain,  for 

(a)  Any  measures  secured  by  force  would  be,  with 

the  army  in  Boston,  doubly  irritating. 
(6)  When,  as  is  the  case,  force  cannot  be  used,  the 
mere  presence  of  the  army,  though  it  is  itself  in 
danger,  is  irritating. 
H.  The  views  of  Congress  are  moderate  and  reasonable. 
I.  It  is  an  old  maxim  that  the  first  concession  comes  most 

fitly  from  the  superior. 
J.  While  every  policy  urges  withdrawal  of  the  troops,  every 
danger  warns  the  English  from  keeping  to  the  old  course, 
for 

I.  That  means  foreign  war,  for 

(a)  France  and  Spain  are  watching  for  an  advantageous 
chance  to  interfere. 

II.  That  means  domestic  trouble,  for 
(a)  The  king  will  lose  all  his  power. 

(6)  The  kingdom  will  be  utterly  undone.* 

*  Note  that  a  conclusion  is  not  printed  by  itself  because,  as  the  propo- 
sition, it  has  been  given  in  Introduction,  III. 


360  APPENDIX 


QUESTIONS   ON   TYPICAL  MASTERPIECES* 

GEORGE  ELIOT'S  SILAS  MARNER 

Having  read  a  chapter,  try  to  give  a  summary  of  its  contents 
in  a  few  sentences.  Invent  an  appropriate  title  for  each  chapter. 
Before  turning  to  the  questions,  try  to  find  things  to  admire — • 
thoughts  beautifully  expressed,  or  passages  reveahng  excep- 
tional skill  in  story-telling.  If  your  copy  of  the  book  is  an  inex- 
pensive one,  mark  passages  that  please  you. 

Chapter  I 

How  does  this  narrative  differ  from  other  novels  that  you 
have  read  in  regard  to  the  way  it  begins?  Would  it  have  been 
better  to  begin  with  lively  conversation?  with  the  Lantern 
Yard  episode?  Recall  as  many  reasons  as  you  can  why  Silas 
was  viewed  with  suspicion  in  Raveloe.  What  great  crisis  in  the 
life  of  Mamer  is  dealt  with  in  this  chapter?  Who  were  David 
and  Jonathan?  So  far  as  your  reading  experience  goes,  are  the 
most  interesting  stories  about  city  life  or  country  life?  about 
people  of  high  degree,  or  of  lowly  station?  about  young  people, 
or  those  of  middle  age? 

Chapter  II 

Purpose?  Why  are  the  paragraphs  introduced  which  tell 
how  Marner  helped  Sally  Gates?  Could  the  passage  telling  of 
the  accident  to  the  pitcher  be  spared?  Why  is  the  money- 
counting  scene  placed  last?  Meaning  of  Lethean?  Do  you 
recall  two  similes  which  are  used  in  describing  Marner's  life? 
Why  do  you  find  it  necessary  to  read  this  novel  so  slowly? 

Chapter  III 

Note  that  in  this  chapter  Mamer  does  not  appear.  Do  you, 
at  this  point,  see  any  way  in  which  he  is  likely  to  be  affected 

*  The  questions  here  given  may  seem,  in  some  instances,  not  to  fol- 
low the  study  plans  given  in  earlier  chapters.  This  is  due  to  the  fact 
that  the  questions  are  designed  to  be  used  in  daily  recitation,  and  that 
seldom  is  it  possible  to  read  an  entire  masterpiece  before  it  is  taken  up 
in  classroom  for  detailed  study. 


APPENDIX  361 

by  the  state  of  affairs  at  the  Red  House?  Why  does  not  the 
author  devote  a  chapter  or  two  to  Godfrey's  unfortunate  mar- 
riage, treating  it  in  detail?  Does  George  Ehot  wish  the  reader 
to  thoroughly  despise  Godfrey  and  Dunstan?  What  explanation 
is  given  of  the  social  supremacy  of  Squire  Cass?  What  war-time 
is  referred  to  in  the  second  paragraph?  Was  it  necessary,  in  the 
fourth  paragraph,  to  mention  that  Godfrey  stood  with  his  hands 
in  his  side-pockets?  Is  the  brown  spaniel  unnecessary?  Ex- 
plain: "No!  he  would  .  .  .  rather  go  on  sitting  at  the  feast,  and 
sipping  the  wine  he  loved,  than,"  etc.  What  parts,  if  any,  of 
this  chapter  do  you  think  might  be  omitted  to  advantage?  Does 
the  story  move  rapidly? 

Chapter  IV 

Pick  out  the  events  which  seem  to  hinge  upon  chance.  Trace 
the  thoughts  which  pass  through  Dunstan's  mind  (a)  up  to  the 
time  he  meets  Bryce,  (b)  from  the  staking  of  the  horse  till  Marner's 
cottage  is  reached,  (c)  while  Dunstan  is  in  the  cottage.  Have 
you  ever  read  another  story  in  which  mind-workings  were  re- 
corded so  minutely?  How  could  a  woman  like  George  Eliot 
know  how  men  think  and  talk  during  a  horse-trade?  AVhy  does 
the  author  have  Dunstan  take  Godfrey's  whip?  Try  to  imagine 
what  the  next  three  chapters  will  contain.  How  will  the  story 
end?    What  do  you  admire  most  in  this  chapter? 

Chapter  V 

Give  an  account,  minute  in  detail  as  you  can  make  it,  of  Mar- 
ner's thoughts  and  actions  as  pictured  in  this  chapter.  Show 
that  contrast  and  suspense  are  finely  employed.  What  are 
the  most  dramatic  moments  thus  far  in  the  story?  George 
Eliot  was  a  close  student  of  philosophy;  what  two  general 
observations  concerning  the  workings  of  the  mind  does  she  make 
in  this  chapter?  What  will  be  the  effect  on  Marner's  character, 
if  his  gold  is  not  recovered? 

Chapter  VI 

What  is  the  purpose  of  this  chapter?  Is  Rainbow  an  ap- 
propriate name  for  a  tavern?  How  could  George  Eliot  know 
how  tavern  frequenters  talk?  Give  an  account  of  (a)  the  dis- 
pute concerning  the  cow,  (b)  the  hectoring  of  the  deputy  clerk, 


362  APPENDIX 

(c)  the  minister's  mistake,  (d)  Cliff's  holiday.  What  is  the  land- 
lord's favorite  remark?  Give  Mr.  Macey's  epigram.  Is  George 
Eliot  skilled  in  making  conversation  lifelike?  Which  requires 
the  greater  talent,  the  creating  of  characters  or  the  inventing  of 
plots? 

Chapter  VII 

In  what  way  does  VI  lead  up  to  VII?  What  good  influence 
beings  to  work  on  Marner  while  he  is  at  the  Rainbow?  Point 
out  the  pathos  and  the  humor  in  this  chapter. 

Chapter  VIII 

Enumerate  the  several  theories  advanced  concerning  what 
has  become  of  Marner's  money.  Why  is  the  tinder-box  in- 
troduced—  solely  for  humor  and  to  gratify  the  author's  fond- 
ness for  revealing  the  workings  of  the  mind?  Which  is  the  better 
piece  of  work,  the  paragraphs  dealing  with  the  efforts  of  the 
villagers  to  discover  the  robbery,  or  the  paragraphs  which  tell 
of  Godfrey's  ''inward  debating?"  W^hat  is  the  meaning  of 
''foreshadowing,"  as  the  term  is  used  in  relation  to  story-telling? 
Do  you  find  an  instance  of  it  in  this  chapter? 

Chapter  IX 

Give  a  clear  account  of  the  interview  between  father  and 
son.  Is  the  essay  on  chance,  with  which  the  chapter  ends,  a 
blemish?  Does  this  chapter  contain  a  dramatic  situation?  How 
many  dramatic  situations  has  the  story  furnished  thus  far? 

Chapter  X 

Purpose?  Contrast  Mr.  Macey  and  Mrs.  Winthrop.  Is 
George  Eliot  as  skilful  in  delineating  women  as  she  is  in  de- 
lineating men?  Is  Aaron  true  to  life?  Why  is  the  youngster 
brought  into  the  story?  Why  are  children  characters  so  rarely 
found  in  fiction?  What  is  the  purpose  of  the  dialogue  with  which 
the  chapter  closes? 

Chapter  XI 

Notice  that  though  in  the  first  ten  chapters  all  the  acting 
characters,  save  one,  are  men,  chapter  XI  is  distinctly  feminine. 
Are  the  delineations  as  truthful  as  those  found  in  the  Rainbow 


APPENDIX  363 

chapter?  Would  it  be  correct  to  say  that  George  Eliot  excels  in 
describing  the  manners  of  rural  society?  Is  it  the  main  purpose 
of  the  chapter  to  describe  the  manners  of  earlier  times,  or  does 
the  story  proper  advance  a  little?  Which  is  the  central  figure  of 
the  score  of  characters  who  appear  at  the  Red  House  party? 
What  (verbatim)  is  George  Eliot's  definition  of  a  lady?  How 
does  Nancy  differ  from  the  modern  heroine?  Introducing  a 
heroine  is  an  important  matter;  can  you  determine  why  the 
author  gives  the  reader  his  first  glimpse  of  Nancy  when  she  is 
just  arriving  at  the  Red  House  rather  than  later  in  the  evening? 
Is  the  dressing-room  scene  necessary?  What  purpose  is  served 
by  the  Miss  Gunns?  by  the  villagers?  by  Priscilla?  How  are  we 
made  acquainted  with  Nancy?  Has  the  chapter  something  of 
climax  structure?  Does  it  leave  the  reader  in  suspense?  Is 
George  Eliot  best  in  the  chapters  where  many  characters  appear? 
What  do  you  admire  most  in  the  chapter? 

Chapter  XII 

Point  out  the  dramatic  relationship  between  XI  and  XII. 
Would  the  effect  be  as  good  were  the  order  of  these  two  chap- 
ters reversed?  Has  the  chapter  been  foreshadowed?  Does 
the  author  try  to  arouse  in  the  reader  deep  pity  for  the  forsaken 
wife?  Why  is  not  the  reader  given  a  nearer  view  of  "a  bar- 
maid's paradise  of  pink  ribbons  and  gentlemen's  jokes?"  Point 
out  all  the  little  touches  which  show  that  George  Ehot  was  a  close 
and  sympathetic  observer  of  the  ways  of  little  children?  Show 
that  the  coming  of  the  child  was  a  crisis  in  the  life  of  Marner. 
Which  should  you  prefer  to  have  written,  this  chapter  or  the 
preceding? 

Chapter  XIII 

What  is  the  dramatic  effect  of  having  Godfrey  the  first  to 
see  his  child?  of  Nancy's  question  to  Godfrey?  of  Dolly  Win- 
throp's  final  remark  to  him?  of  the  fact  that  the  child's  eyes 
turn  from  him  to  the  rough-faced  weaver?  What  is  your  answer 
to  the  question  which  Godfrey  asks  himself  in  the  final  para- 
graph? Has  the  weather  thus  far  introduced  been  essential  to 
the  story?  Do  you  recall  any  instance  where  rain  or  sunshine 
has  been  introduced  for  dramatic  effect — as  if  nature  sympa- 
thized with  the  characters?    How  will  the  story  end? 


364  APPENDIX 

Chapter  XIV 

Find  specific  instances  of  ''a  woman's  tender  tact."  What 
is  accomplished  through  the  scene  in  which  Mrs.  Winthrop 
appears?  Contrast  the  influence  of  the  hoarded  gold  and  the 
influence  of  Eppie.  In  the  incident  which  tells  how  Eppie  runs 
away,  what  is  gained  by  including  the  item  about  the  red-headed 
calf?  Is  the  character  of  Eppie  drawn  true  to  life?  In  what 
ether  books  have  you  found  attractive  children? 

Chapter  XV 

Is  this  chapter  necessary?  In  what  respects  would  the  story 
be  incomplete  if  it  were  to  end  at  this  point? 

Chapter  XVI 

What  advantage  is  there  in  opening  Part  Second  with  a 
church  scene?  What  is  gained  by  introducing  the  donkey,  the 
dog,  and  the  cat?  What  is  Mrs.  Winthrop's  way  of  justifying 
the  result  of  the  trial  by  lot?  Does  it  satisfy  you?  Show  that 
the  garden  symbolizes  the  entire  story.  Does  the  chapter  con- 
tain any  foreshadowing — any  hint  of  coming  events?  Is  Eppie 
as  attractive  as  a  young  woman  as  she  was  as  a  child? 

Chapter  XVII 

Does  the  story  advance  any  during  this  chapter?  What 
is  the  chapter's  purpose?  Why  is  Nancy  unwilling  to  adopt 
Eppie?  Why  is  Godfrey  unwilling  to  confess  to  Nancy?  Do 
you  recall  other  chapters  which  leave  the  reader  in  a  state  of 
suspense? 

Chapter  XVIII 

Would  the  announcement  of  the  discovery  at  the  stone- 
pits  have  been  equally  dramatic  had  it  been  made  by  another 
than  Godfrey — for  example,  by  Ben  Winthrop  to  a  group  of 
villagers?  Would  it  have  been  equally  dramatic  had  the  author 
confided  to  the  reader,  in  Chapter  IV,  what  became  of  Dun- 
stan?  In  what  ways  does  Nancy  show  nobility  of  character? 
Do  you  agree  that  "nothing  is  so  good  as  it  seems  beforehand"? 
Find  a  number  of  things  to  admire  in  this  chapter. 


APPENDIX  365 

Chapter  XIX 

What  is  the  dramatic  purpose  of  the  conversation  between 
Silas  and  Eppie,  before  the  arrival  of  Godfrey?  What  argu- 
ments are  used  in  the  attempt  to  persuade  Eppie  to  leave  Silas? 
What  is  the  most  dramatic  moment? 

Chapter  XX 

What  is  the  purpose  of  the  chapter?  At  what  point  in  the 
story  does  Nancy  appear  most  noble?  Is  she  the  heroine? 
What  other  characters  have  shown  heroic  qualities?  Why  not 
end  the  story  at  this  point? 

Chapter  XXI 

Is  this  chapter  necessary?  Why  is  not  Silas  permitted  to 
clear  himself  of  the  charge  of  theft,  and  to  talk  over  with  the 
minister  the  matter  of  trial  by  lots?  Try  to  imagine  the  life- 
career  of  William  Dane.  Write  a  composition  under  the  title 
William  Dane's  Confession. 

General  Questions 

Why  do  so  many  stories  end  on  wedding  days?  Does  the 
conclusion  leave  any  important  question  unanswered?  As  you 
look  back  on  the  story,  what  in  it  seems  most  admirable?  What 
character  is  most  attractive?  What  character  is  best  delineated? 
What  are  the  most  dramatic  scenes?  What  is  the  most  prominent 
underlying  truth?    What  opinion  have  you  formed  of  the  author? 


THE  DE  COVERLEY  PAPERS 
No.  1 

When  you  read  a  magazine  article,  do  you  care  to  know 
the  particulars  concerning  the  author's  life?  Is  the  Spectator  a 
purely  imaginary  person?  In  what  respects  is  the  Spectator,  as 
pictured  by  Addison,  one  who  would  please  readers  of  the  better 
class?  What  advantages  and  what  disadvantages  are  there  in 
writing  under  an  assumed  name?  Would  it  be  better  if  all 
newspaper  articles  were  signed?  Are  spectators  as  a  rule  better 
quaUfied  to  write  than  those  actively  engaged  in  affairs?    What 


368  APPENDIX 

is  meant  by  a  "speculative  statesman?"  Pick  out  a  few  words 
or  phrases  which  show  that  our  language  has  changed  shghtiy 
since  Addison's  day.  Write  from  memory  an  account  of  the 
Spectator's  life,  character,  and  purpose;  or  write  a  paragraph 
beginning  with  this  sentence:  In  his  opening  paper  Addison 
reveals  not  a  little  shrewdness. 

No.  2 

What  is  gained,  considering  the  purpose  of  the  Spectator, 
through  inventing  a  group  of  clubmen?  Are  the  members 
wisely  selected?  If  you  were  inventing  a  club  for  a  similar  pur- 
pose, what  classes  of  society  would  you  wish  to  have  represented? 
Which  character  is  sketched  with  greatest  care?  What  is  the 
meaning  of  wit  and  humorist  as  employed  in  this  paper?  Is  it 
true  (a)  that  one  few  of  whose  thoughts  are  drawn  from  business 
is  apt  to  be  agreeable  in  conversation;  (b)  that  one  familiar  with 
the  writings  of  the  ancients  is  a  keen  observer  of  what  occurs  in 
the  world  today;  (c)  that  it  is  cowardly  to  be  backward  in  assert- 
ing what,  because  of  your  merit,  you  ought  to  expect?  Write  a 
two  hundred  word  sketch  of  a  member  of  a  modern  club,  pattern- 
ing after  Steele. 

No.  6 

Is  this  paper  difficult  to  understand  because  the  thought  is 
profound,  or  because  the  thought  is  poorly  expressed?  Does 
some  one  idea  stand  out  clearly?  Was  the  paper  planned  with 
care?  What,  if  anything,  is  gained  by  having  Sir  Roger  speak? 
What  is  gained  by  concluding  with  the  story  of  Spartan  polite- 
ness? Explain:  abuse  of  the  understanding,  men  of  fine  parts. 
Why  should  none  but  men  of  fine  parts  be  hung?  What  danger 
attends  cleverness?  What  danger  attends  literary  skill?  Which 
class  is  the  more  apt  to  do  wrong,  the  educated  or  the  unedu- 
cated? Is  the  law  on  the  whole  successful  in  catching  the  people 
most  dangerous  to  society?  What  constitutes  true  politeness? 
Are  the  charges  brought  by  Steele  against  his  own  times  ap- 
plicable today?    Has  the  paper  given  you  much  to  think  about? 

No.  34 

Make  a  simple  plan  of  this  paper  by  giving  to  each  para- 
graph an  appropriate  title.    What  hints  do  you  find  that  help 


APPENDIX  .  367 

you  in  guessing  what  subjects  the  Spectator  has  been  writing 
about?  What  is  satire?  Is  it  well  for  the  satirist  "never  to 
draw  a  faulty  character  which  does  not  fit,"  etc.?  Is  it  never 
wise  for  the  reformer  to  single  out  a  conspicuous  offender  and 
attack  him  openly? 

No.  37 

Do  you  think  this  paper  was  enjoyed  by  the  ladies  who  read 
it?  Should  you  like  to  read — or  write — a  similar  paper  on  the 
library  of  a  lady  of  today?  What  does  Addison  gain  by  lead- 
ing up  to  his  suggestion  for  reform  through  giving  an  account 
of  his  imagined  visit?  Would  the  paper  have  been  as  effective 
had  he  stated  his  reform  at  the  outset?  Why  does  he  include  an 
account  of  Leonora's  country  seat?  What,  in  brief,  are  A.'s 
ideas  on  reading  for  women?  What  does  he  condemn  in  Leo- 
nora's reading?  Would  it  have  been  wise  to  follow  this  paper 
with  one  containing  a  list  of  one  hundred  good  books?  Point 
out  bits  of  humor.  Write — or  imagine — a  letter  written  by 
Leonora  to  the  Spectator. 

No.  106 

Notice  that  the  Spectator  takes  his  readers  to  the  country 
during  warm  weather.  Has  this  paper  a  definite  plan,  or  does  it 
simply  drift  along?  Why  are  Addison's  papers  easier  to  read 
than  Steele's?  Which  Sir  Roger  is  more  natural,  the  one  we  see 
in  this  paper  or  the  one  in  No.  6?  Which  Spectator  is  more 
natural,  the  one  in  this  paper  or  the  one  in  No.  6;  that  is,  which 
one  best  fits  his  character  as  delineated  in  the  first  paper?  In 
what  respects  is  Sir  Roger  a  good  master?  Why  is  it  so  difficult 
nowadays  to  get  and  keep  good  servants?  Were  the  instruc- 
tions wise  which  Sir  R.  gave  to  the  friend  who  was  to  select  a 
chaplain?  Do  you  approve  of  the  plan  whereby  ministers  preach 
sermons  written  by  abler  men? 

No.  107 

Is  it  probable  that  Steele  could  have  improved  this  paper 
by  rewriting  it?  The  beginning  of  an  essay  should  be  inviting; 
is  it  inviting  in  this  case?  Would  it  have  been  better  to  begin 
with  the  incident  with  which  the  paper  concludes?  Is  the  open- 
ing paragraph  too  long?  Rewrite  in  simpler  language  the  second 
paragraph.    Explain:  threatened  to  distrain^  so  good  an  husband, 


368  .  APPENDIX 

when  a  tenement  falls,  manumission.  Are  Steele's  ideas  con- 
cerning the  treatment  of  servants  appropriate  for  today  in 
America?  If  you  were  writing  a  paper  on  the  servant  problem, 
what  are  some  of  the  suggestions  you  would  make?  What  do 
you  imagine  Addison  thought  of  this  paper  by  Steele?  Try  to 
imagine  a  conversation  at  the  Club  among  men  who  had  just 
read  the  paper. 

No.  108 

In  what  respects  is  Will's  letter  "extraordinary"?  Is  the 
character  of  Wimble  well  brought  out?  Have  we  in  America 
a  class  corresponding  to  that  to  which  Will  belonged?  Are  the 
names  of  the  characters  in  the  Spectator  well  chosen?  Give  the 
meaning  of  the  quotation  which  introduces  the  paper.  Were  the 
Latin  quotations  in  the  Spectator  intelligible  to  its  readers?  What 
purpose  is  served  by  the  quotations?  In  the  original  Spectator 
did  the  essays  appear  with  titles? 

No.  109 

At  what  two  fashions  of  the  hour  is  fun  poked?  Which  is 
the  better  of  the  two  tales,  the  tilt-yard  episode  or  the  elope- 
ment? Point  out  little  touches  which  make  the  narrative  life- 
like. Point  out  the  ideal  in  Sir  Humphrey's  character.  Imagine 
a  coffee-house  group  reading  this  paper.  What  would  they  find 
to  laugh  at?  Imagine  Addison  complimenting  Steele.  What 
literary  excellencies  would  he  think  especially  praiseworthy? 
Imagine  yourself  writing  a  similar  paper  on  someone's  relatives, 
whose  photographs  you  are  examining  in  a  family  album. 

No.  110 

Notice  how  quiet,  smooth-flowing,  and  thoughtful  this  essay 
is  compared  to  the  preceding.  Try  to  imagine  how  Steele 
would  have  treated  the  same  topic.  Imagine  how  you  would 
build  up  an  essay  on  present-day  superstitions.  What,  briefly, 
is  Addison's  belief  concerning  ghosts?  What  is  Locke's?  Lu- 
cretius's?  your  own?  Does  the  story  at  the  conclusion  of  the 
paper  add  much?  Pick  out  a  paragraph  that  you  like  particu- 
larly well,  and  be  prepared  to  defend  your  preference.  Try  to 
state  clearly  and  completely  the  reforms  advocated  in  this  paper. 


APPENDIX  369 

No.  112 

Reproduce  as  accurately  as  you  can  the  substance  of  the 
opening  paragraph.  Mention  in  detail  everything  that  Sir 
Roger  did  to  make  his  parish  church  a  success.  With  what 
thought  does  the  paper  close?  Do  you  think  Addison's  readers 
cared  for  this  semi-religious  paper?  Notice  the  plan  of  the 
essay:  a  paragraph  of  general  ideas  on  church-going,  followed  by 
a  series  of  paragraphs  graphically  picturing  church  conditions  in 
two  parishes,  one  ideal,  the  other  far  from  ideal.  Try  to  think 
of  other  plans  that  A.  might  have  followed.  Is  A.  ever  guilty  of 
"fine  writing"?  Can  you  imagine,  when  reading,  that  he  is 
talking  to  you? 

No.  113 

Is  the  character  of  the  widow  true  to  life  or  merely  a  bur- 
lesque? Is  Sir  Roger's  rambling  talk  natural?  Do  you  think 
more  highly  of  Sir  Roger  after  reading  the  paper?  Should  you 
imagine  that  Steele  was  a  bashful  lover?  Does  this  paper  con- 
tain satire?  Explain:  assizes,  confidante,  desperate  scholar, 
votaries,  Dum  tacet  hanc  loquitur.  Is  the  stanza  with  which  the 
paper  closes  appropriate?  What  is  meant  by  the  phrase  keeping 
Sir  Roger  in  character? 

No.  114 

In  studying  this  paper,  the  main  task  is  to  understand  what 
it  means.  Explain :  shame  of  poverty.  What  maxim  of  economy 
was  adopted  by  Sir  Roger's  ideal  ancestor?  Do  you  under- 
stand the  paragraph  in  which  Cowley  is  mentioned?  Which 
class  is  most  to  be  envied,  the  rich,  the  poor,  or  those  neither  rich 
nor  poor?  Has  wealth  anything  to  do  with  happiness?  If  Addi- 
son had  been  writing  this  paper,  would  he  have  begun  with  the 
dinner  party?  Try  to  imagine  how  he  would  have  concluded  the 
paper. 

No.  115 

Make  a  topical  plan.  What  part  of  the  essay  do  you  find 
most  novel?  most  interesting?  best  worth  remembering?  Which 
essay  has  the  better  conclusion,  115  or  114? 

No.  116 

Budgell  wrote  this  essay;  can  you  tell,  from  its  style,  whether 
it  was  revised  by  Addison  or  by  Steele?     Give  your  reasons. 


370  APPENDIX 

Do  you  agree  with  Pascal,  or  with  the  Spectator,  in  regard  to 
hunting?  Why  are  quotations  so  often  found  at  the  close  of 
essays? 

No.  117 

Explain  hovering  faith.  Is  the  adjective  hovering  well  chosen? 
Is  hovering  faith  always  the  result  of  a  desire  to  be  fair,  or 
may  it  result  from  a  desire  to  avoid  responsibility?  What  kind 
of  people  are  apt  to  ^^jump  at  conclusions"?  Assuming  that 
A.  sincerely  wished  to  bring  about  reform,  show  that  the  open- 
ing paragraph  is  very  appropriate.  Find  one  or  two  examples 
that  would  not  be  considered  good  English  today. 

No.  118 

Notice  that  papers  in  which  the  widow  is  mentioned  are 
by  Steele.  Is  the  opening  paragraph  a  bit  flowery?  Do  you 
find  it  difficult  to  imagine  Sir  Roger  talking  as  Steele  makes  him 
talk?  Was  it  not  remarkable  that  just  as  Sir  R.  was  railing 
against  confidantes  he  should  light  upon  an  example  of  a  con- 
fidante's mischief?  Is  the  game-keeper's  language  natural? 
Which  essayist,  Addison  or  Steele,  were  they  alive  today,  would 
make  the  better  novelist?  write  the  better  comedy?  Can  you 
account  for  the  fact  that  A.'s  sentences  seem  so  much  more 
modern  than  Steele's? 

No.  119 

Notice  how  well  planned  this  paper  is,  and  with  what  skill 
transitions  are  made.  What  general  remarks  does  A.  make 
in  regard  to  city  and  country  manners?  In  what  respects  does 
he  think  the  country  better  than  the  city?  How  does  he  account 
for  the  coarse  language  of  city  fops?  Do  you  agree  that  ''good 
breeding  shows  itself  most  where,  to  an  ordinary  eye,  it  appears 
least"?  Why  today  is  there  far  less  difference  between  the 
manners  of  city  and  country  than  in  former  times?  What  would 
A.  have  to  say  today  about  dress,  conversation,  manners?  Could 
a  good  essay  be  written  on  slang?  Are  slang  and  profanity  dying 
out? 

No.  122 

Would  the  account  of  the  day  with  Sir  Roger  be  as  inter- 
esting without  the  little  sermon  found  in  the  opening  paragraph? 
Do  you  accept  as  true  the  statement  in  the  first  sentence?    is 


APPENDIX  371 

Sir  Roger's  "much  might  be  said  on  both  sides"  a  case  of  "hover- 
ing faith"?  Comment  on  "I  suppose  he  is  going  upon  the  old 
business  of  the  willow  tree."  Do  you  recall  other  sentences,  in 
earlier  papers,  introduced  for  the  same  artistic  purpose?  Have 
we  had  other  papers  which  end  as  simply  as  this  one?  Is  it  a 
good  plan,  when  writing  an  essay,  to  make  the  concluding  sen- 
tence bring  the  reader's  thoughts  back  to  the  introductory  sen- 
tences?   Is  No.  122  constructed  on  such  a  plan? 

No.  123 

Notice  the  structure:  (1)  a  specific  example  of  a  pampered 
son,  (2)  a  few  words  on  pampered  sons  in  general,  (3)  a  story 
suggested  by  the  subject.  What  criticism  can  you  offer  con- 
cerning the  story  of  Florio  and  Leonilla?  Try  to  imagine  how 
a  modern  author  would  tell  the  story.  Do  you  think  A.  really 
means  to  recommend  that  children  be  exchanged?  What  paper 
makes  a  good  companion  piece  to  No.  123?  Reparagraph  the 
story. 

No.  125 

This  paper  is  somewhat  difficult,  but  exceedingly  good,  show- 
ing A.  at  his  best — fearless,  yet  writing  with  commendable 
restraint.  Tell  the  anecdotes  with  which  the  paper  begins,  and 
note  how  skilfully  it  puts  the  reader  into  a  w^holesome  frame  of 
mind  to  receive  the  lecture  that  follows.  Enumerate,  as  accur- 
ately as  you  can,  all  the  evils  resulting  from  extreme  party 
spirit.  Give  very  carefully  the  substance  of  the  concluding 
paragraph.  Can  you  recall  any  other  paper  in  which  the  man 
Addison  appears  to  better  advantage?  Is  the  paper  one  of  the 
best  from  the  literary  standpoint?  How  would  Steele  have 
treated  the  subject?  Does  party  spirit  run  high  in  America? 
Could  you  write  a  similar  paper  on  party  feeling  as  it  appears  in 
pubHc  schools? 

No.  126 

Is  A.  in  earnest  in  his  recommendation  that  honest  men  of 
all  parties  unite  in  an  association  for  purifying  politics?  Has 
such  an  association  ever  been  formed?  Notice  A.'s  list  of  political 
pests:  furious  zealots;  infamous  hypocrites;  profligate,  immoral 
retainers.  Can  you  think  of  other  political  pests?  Does  A. 
succeed  in  making  his  point  clearer  by  means  of  the  ichneumon 


372  APPENDIX 

and  Tartar  illustrations?  Which  is  the  more  interesting  half  of 
the  paper?  Where  in  the  paper  do  you  find  A.  most  earnest? 
May  a  writer  forward  a  serious  purpose  by  means  of  humor? 
Is  there  an3i}hirig  in  this  paper  at  which  any  of  A.'s  readers  may 
have  taken  offence?  Have  you  noted  anything  in  any  of  his 
papers  at  which  anyone  might  take  offence? 

No.  130 

In  this  paper  does  A.  appear  as  reformer  or  as  entertainer? 
Why  does  he  not  deal  with  the  gypsy  problem  seriously  as  he 
deals  with  the  subject  of  witches?  Point  out  the  bits  of  humor. 
Was  the  story  with  which  the  paper  concludes  added  merely  to 
fill  up  space?  Is  the  story  probable?  interesting?  Who  is  Cas- 
sandra? 

No.  131 

What,  if  anything,  is  satirized  in  this  paper?  What  does 
the  paper  contain  that  would  interest  A.'s  readers?  Perhaps  the 
best  thing  in  131  is  the  letter  with  which  it  closes;  how  does  it 
compare  with  Will  Wimble's?  In  what  respects  is  the  latter 
characteristic  of  Honeycomb?  Write  a  letter  to  yourself,  pre- 
tending as  you  write  that  you  are  someone  else.  Try  to  recall 
every  person  mentioned  by  the  Spectator  during  his  imaginary 
visit  to  Sir  Roger.  Which  of  these  people  are  more  than  com- 
monly interesting? 

No.  132 

In  what  respect  is  this  paper  characteristic  of  Steele?  Should 
you  prefer  to  read  none  but  papers  by  Addison,  or  do  you  find 
rehef  in  an  occasional  paper  by  Steele?  Explain  the  pun  in 
the  opening  paragraph.  What  do  you  learn  from  the  paper  con- 
cerning travel  in  Queen  Anne's  day?  What  is  satirized?  Stage- 
coaches being  out  of  fashion,  is  the  lesson  on  manners  no  longer 
appropriate?  What  might  Steele  have  to  say  about  electric  cars 
or  automobiles,  were  he  writing  today?  Why  was  it  brave  to 
say  a  good  word  for  Quakers? 

No.  174 

Does  Sir  Roger  talk  "in  character"?  Is  Sir  Andrew's  speech 
lifelike?  Had  A.  been  writing,  would  he  have  permitted  Sir 
Andrew  to  make  the  reference  to  Sir  Roger's  portrait  gallery? 


APPENDIX  373 

Why  does  Steele  end  his  paper  without  giving  the  knight  oppor- 
tunity to  reply?  What  hint  is  given  concerning  the  best  way  to 
aid  the  poor?  Is  Sir  Andrew's  method  always  possible?  Was  it 
uncommon  in  Queen  Anne's  day  for  country  gentlemen  to  keep 
accounts?  Is  there  a  prejudice  today  against  commercial  in- 
terests? 

No.  269 

Note  that  132  appeared  Aug.  1,  174  Sept.  14,  269  Jan.  8. 
Note  too  that  A.  is  careful  to  recall  to  his  readers  the  various 
characters  met,  months  before,  at  Sir  Roger's.  Is  his  account 
of  Sir  R's.  Christmas  generosity  intended  to  make  his  readers 
forget  Steele's  blunder  in  running  down  the  Knight?  Notice  the 
time-marks:  Eugene  and  Scanderbeg,  the  Pope's  procession,  etc. 
Do  they  suggest  why  the  products  of  journalism  seldom  win  a 
permanent  place  in  literature?  Was  Baker's  Chronicle  a  recent 
publication?  Is  there  a  hint  that  tea  is  supplanting  coffee  as  a 
popular  beverage?  What  is  gained  by  telling  precisely  where  the 
Spectator  and  the  Knight  took  their  walk,  and  by  giving  the  name 
of  the  coffee  house  to  which  they  went?  In  what  respects  is  this 
a  better  paper  than  the  preceding? 

No.  329 

What  is  gained  by  letting  the  reader  see  the  Abbey  through 
the  eyes  of  Sir  Roger?  Was  A.'s  principal  purpose  to  reveal 
the  goodness  of  the  Knight's  heart,  or  to  present  a  true  pic- 
ture of  the  monuments?  Point  out  all  the  traits  of  Sir  R.'s 
character  as  revealed  in  this  paper.  Give  an  account  of  the 
morning's  visit,  not  forgetting  the  Knight's  comments.  Shut 
your  eyes  and  try  to  form  a  picture  of  Sir  Roger  in  the  coronation 
chair.  In  mentioning  widow  Trueby's  waters  is  A.  poking  fun 
at  a  quack  remedy,  or  "puffing"  a  remedy  that  he  believes  in? 
Did  the  Spectator  contain  advertisements? 

No.  335 

In  this  paper  A.  puffs  a  play  by  his  friend  Phillips.  Pick 
out  every  favorable  criticism  passed  by  Sir  Roger.  Why  would 
favorable  comment  from  a  country  squire  who  had  not  seen  a 
play  in  twenty  years  be  considered  high  praise?  Pick  out  all 
the  little  items  which  make  the  account  of  the  evening  seem  true 


374  APPENDIX 

to  life.  Do  you  feel,  as  you  read  paper  after  paper,  that  Addison 
is  growing  fonder  of  the  character  he  has  created?  Are  you 
growing  fonder  of  him?  What  have  you  learned  about  play- 
going  in  Queen  Anne's  time?  Imagine  yourself  attending  a  play 
with  one  of  your  country  relatives.  What  are  some  of  the  odd 
things  he  might  do  and  say? 

No.  359 

You  have  read  papers  by  Steele  and  Addison  in  which  Sir  R. 
appears,  and  now  comes  one  by  Budgell.  Does  Budgell  handle 
the  character  well?  Which  of  the  three  writers  is  most  suc- 
cessful in  showing  the  lovable  side  of  the  Knight's  nature?  No- 
tice the  touch  of  reahsm  in  the  phrase  'playing  with  a  cork.  Do 
you  recall  similar  touches  in  earlier  papers?  Could  Steele  have 
handled  the  subject  of  Honeycomb's  amours  successfully?  Why 
is  Sir  R.  so  interested  in  the  passage  from  Paradise  Lostf 

No.  383 

Explain:  Temple  Stairs,  Spring  Garden,  Fox-hall,  Temple 
Bar.  How  do  you  account  for  Sir  Roger's  enthusiasm  over  war? 
Were  not  the  land-owners  opposed  to  war?  Explain  the  reference 
to  the  fifty  new  churches.  Is  the  purpose  of  the  paper  to  suggest 
reforms,  or  to  bring  out  the  Knight's  character?  If  the  purpose  is 
to  call  attention  to  reforms  needed  at  Fox-hall,  was  it  wise  to  con- 
fine the  criticism  to  the  last  paragraph  or  two?  Was  it  shrewder 
to  have  the  criticism  fall  from  the  lips  of  Sir  Roger  than  to  have 
the  Spectator  speak  directly  and  boldly?  Which  is  the  best 
paper,  329,  335,  or  383? 

No.  517 

Can  you  imagine  why  Addison  put  an  end  to  Sir  Roger,  who 
must  have  been  a  popular  character?  Why  does  he  invent 
a  letter  from  the  butler  rather  than  from  the  chaplain  or  Capt. 
Sentry?  Is  the  butler  in  any  respects  a  good  letter-writer?  Is 
the  letter  in  character?  What  are  the  essentials  of  a  good  letter? 
Is  Biscuit  an  appropriate  name,  or  does  it  displease  you?  What 
would  be  an  appropriate  name  for  the  chaplain?  Point  out  the 
humor  in  the  paper.  Do  you  note  any  resemblance  "between 
this  paper  and  the  last  scene  in  a  play  or  the  final  chapter  of  a 
novel? 


APPENDIX  875 

General  Questions 

The  avowed  purpose  of  the  Spectator  was  to  improve  man- 
ners and  morals  by  pointing  out  folUes.  How  many  Spectator 
reforms  can  you  recall?  What  is  peculiar  in  the  method  em- 
ployed by  the  editors  in  bringing  about  reforms? 

How  many  Spectator  characters  do  you  recall?  Which  of 
these  stand  out  most  distinctly?  Are  they  agreeable  people 
whom  it  would  be  a  pleasure  to  meet?  Are  they  presented  as 
ideal  people  or  as  examples  of  what  we  should  not  be?  Are  they 
all  types  easily  duphcated,  or  are  they  ''odd  sticks"? 

How  many  incidents  do  you  recall?  How  do  these  incidents, 
viewed  collectively,  differ  from  the  incidents  in  a  novel?  Would 
it  have  been  well  to  have  the  widow  at  last  accept  Sir  Roger? 
Could  Addison  or  Steele  have  written  a  play?  a  novel?  a  good 
short  story?  Is  the  character  of  the  papers  such  as  to  call  for 
description?    Do  you  recall  any  descriptive  passages? 

What  have  you  noticed  in  regard  to  Addison's  and  Steele's 
ways  of  constructing  essays?  W^hat  are  some  of  their  ways  of 
beginning?  of  concluding?  Are  the  paragraphs  closely  knit  by 
means  of  introductory  and  transitional  words  and  phrases?  Is 
the  vocabulary  of  the  Spectator  a  simple  one?  Which  is  the  more 
skilful  writer,  Addison  or  Steele? 

What  new  ideas  have  come  to  you  from  reading  the  papers? 
What  facts  have  you  learned  about  Queen  Anne  times?  On  the 
whole,  have  the  papers  been  enjoyable?  What  have  you  en- 
joyed most?  least?  What  opinion  have  you  formed  of  Addison 
and  Steele  as  men?  What  do  you  think  of  Queen  Anne  times  as 
compared  with  today?  Has  human  nature  changed  much  in 
two  centuries? 

MACAULAY'S  SAMUEL  JOHNSON 

In  studying  this  essay  it  is  well  to  bear  in  mind  that  it  was 
written  for  the  Encyclopoedia  Brittanica,  rather  hastily,  when 
Macaulay  was  in  his  fifty-sixth  year — three  years  before  his 
death.    The  numerals  refer  to  paragraphs. 

1 

What  three  topics  are  treated  in  this  paragraph?  The  ac- 
count of  Johnson's  father  contains  about  one  hundred  words. 
What,  if  anything,  do  you  see  in  it  to  admire?    Why  is  no  men- 


376  APPENDIX 

tion  made  of  Johnson's  mother?  What,  besides  the  house  where 
Johnson  was  born,  do  travelers  go  to  Lichfield  to  see?  How  do 
you  account  for  the  fact  that  the  bookseller's  patrons  were  mainly 
clergymen?  How  did  the  contents  of  Johnson's  shop  differ  from 
those  of  the  modern  bookstore?  How  do  you  account  for  the 
fact  that  politics  and  religion  were  more  closely  aUied  in  the 
early  years  of  the  eighteenth  century  than  they  are  at  present? 
Explain  the  sentence  beginning  He  was  a  zealous  churchmari. 
Was  Johnson  well  born  for  a  literary  career?  Is  the  sentence 
beginning  In  the  child  an  important  one,  in  any  way  suggesting 
the  statement  of  a  proposition  in  geometry?  Why  are  the  details 
of  the  child's  trip  to  London  given,  together  with  a  description 
of  the  Queen?  In  this  early  account  of  Johnson  is  M.  trying  to 
prejudice  you  against  him?  Is  it  a  good  plan  to  turn  boys  loose 
in  bookshops  or  libraries,  or  is  it  better  to  direct  their  reading? 
Is  indiscriminate  reading  a  good  preparation  for  authorship? 
Is  the  study  of  the  classics  a  good  preparation  for  authorship? 
How  do  the  books  that  the  boy  Johnson  read  differ  in  kind  from 
the  books  read  by  the  average  American  youth?  Explain:  Attic 
poetry  and  eloquence,  Augustan  delicacy  of  taste,  public  schools, 
sixth  form  at  Eton,  restorers  of  learning,  Petrarch. 

2 

Explain  either  university.  How  does  Oxford  differ  from  an 
American  university?  Is  Macrobius  a  well  known  Latin  writer? 
Is  the  first  sentence  of  this  paragraph  topical? 

3 

Explain:  quadrangle  of  Christ  Church,  gentleman  commoner, 
Pope's  Messiah,  Virgilian.  Is  there  a  suspicion  created  by  such 
phrases  as  was  generally  to  be  seen  and  in  every  meeting  that 
Macaulay  was  too  fond  of  making  sweeping  statements?  What 
is  the  first  essential  in  writing  biography?  From  what  source 
did  M.  get  his  information  concerning  Johnson?  Should  he  have 
acknowledged  his  indebtedness?  Do  you  hke  Johnson  better 
or  worse  after  reading  this  paragraph? 

4 

Invent  appropriate  headings  for  the  three  paragraphs  deal- 
ing with  Johnson's  college  career.  Point  out  the  dramatic 
features  in  this  chapter  of  Johnson's  life. 


APPENDIX  377 


Is  it  possible  that  in  this  paragraph  M.  represents  as  cus- 
tomary eccentricities  which  were  but  occasional?  Find  instances 
of  balanced  construction  such  as  "He  was  sick  of  life;  but  he  was 
afraid  of  death."    Explain:  hypochondriac,  torpid. 

6 

Notice  that  M.  is  careful,  after  the  preceding  paragraph 
which  refers  to  a  period  of  thirty  years,  to  let  the  reader  know 
J.'s  age  at  the  time  now  to  be  considered.  Enumerate  Johnson's 
early  attempts  to  make  a  living.  Explain :  usher  of  a  grammar 
school,  ecclesiastical  court.  When  a  young  man  upon  leaving 
college  tries  now  this  occupation,  now  that,  is  it  a  sign  of  weak- 
ness? 

7 

Notice  that  While  leading  this  vagrant  and  miserable  life,  like 
the  first  phrase  in  the  preceding  paragraph,  is  transitional,  the 
rest  of  the  sentence  topical.  What  is  gained  by  mentioning  the 
Queensberrys  and  Lepels?  Can  you  bring  against  M.,  as  he 
appears  in  this  paragraph,  any  charge  besides  misrepresentation? 
Was  M.  a  married  man?  Find  an  instance  of  contrast.  What 
danger  attends  the  use  of  contrast  to  gain  force? 

8 

Mrs.  Porter  was  but  forty-six  when  she  married  Johnson; 
how  do  you  account  for  tawdry  painted  grandmother?  Is  it  M.'s 
purpose  in  painting  J.'s  misfortunes — his  poverty,  his  infirmities, 
and  his  marriage — to  make  Johnson's  success  in  later  years 
seem  the  more  wonderful?    Who  was  Garrick? 

9 

How  do  you  account  for  the  brevity  of  this  paragraph? 

10 

What  relationship  does  the  first  sentence  bear  to  the  rest  of 
the  paragraph?  Why  is  this  an  important  paragraph  in  an  essay 
which  aims  to  estimate  Johnson's  achievements?  Explain  the 
sentence  beginning  Literature  had  ceased  to  flourish.  Name 
two  or  three  writers  prominent  in  the  preceding  generation,  two 


378  APPENDIX 

or  thre^  in  the  following  generation,  and  two  or  three  contem- 
pcrariee.  What  Macaulayan  characteristic  is  prominent  in  the 
sentence  describing  Fielding's  poverty? 

11 
Explain  Drury  Lane. 

12 

Explain:  ordinaries,  a  la  mode  beef  shops,  sycophancy,  Har- 
leian  Library.  Are  the  graphic  details  in  this  paragraph  in- 
troduced for  humorous  effect?    Does  M.  hke  Johnson? 

13 

Explain:  proceedings  of  either  house,  Lilliput,  Capulets,  Mon- 
tagues, Sacheverell,  ship  money,  Roundheads,  Great  Rebellion, 
member  of  the  opposition.  How  do  you  account  for  the  length  of 
this  paragraph?  M.  was  a  Whig;  can  we  trust  him  to  estimate 
the  worth  of  a  Tory?  Can  we  make  a  hero  of  Johnson  after 
learning  that  he  deceived  his  readers  in  the  Debates  of  the  Senate 
of  Lilliput?    Why  is  this  a  difficult  paragraph  to  master? 

14 

What  prompted  J.  to  write  London?  Would  the  second  sen- 
tence be  as  effective  if  it  concluded  with  a  needy  man  of  letters? 
What  is  the  poem  about? 

15 

Notice  the  dramatic  structure,  suggesting  a  one  act  tragedy 
with  a  good  catastrophe.  The  harsh  word  hack  forms  an  ap- 
propriate ending. 

16 

How  is  the  transition  made  from  London  to  Savage?  Make 
as  many  comments  as  you  can  on  the  rhetorical  characteristics 
of  the  third  and  fourth  sentences.  Explain:  Covent  Garden,  a 
glass  house. 

17 

Explain  Grub  Street.  In  reviewing  a  work,  is  it  best  to  give 
unfavorable  criticism  first? 


APPENDIX  379 

18 

How  is  the  transition  made  from  Savage  to  the  Dictionary? 
Notice  that  M.  tells  how  much  J.  was  to  receive  for  the  Diction- 
ary. He  has  also  told  how  much  was  paid  for  London,  and  how 
much  J.  was  left  by  his  father.  Do  you  like  this?  How  much  is 
1,500  guineas?  How  much  does  it  cost  to  make  a  dictionary 
nowadays?    Why  so  much  more? 

19 

What  is  a  prospectus?  Was  it  like  Johnson,  who  was  no 
sycophant,  to  curry  favor  with  Chesterfield?  Comment  on  the 
fifth  sentence. 

20 

Which  do  you  like  better,  the  paragraphs  dealing  with  The 
Vanity  of  Human  Wishes,  or  the  paragraphs  dealing  with  London? 

21 

Why  so  short  a  paragraph? 

22  4 

Notice  how  careful  M.  is  to  see  that  the  reader  follows  the 
time  sequence.  Find  in  earlier  paragraphs  time-establishing 
phrases  like  A  few  days  after.  Point  out  balanced  constructions. 
What  is  the  difference  between  blank  verse  and  heroic  verse? 
What  is  a  closet  drama? 

23 

Was  it  necessary  to  refer  to  earlier  periodical  literature? 
Do  you  infer  from  this  paragraph  and  others  that  M.  was  a  great 
reader  with  a  wonderful  memory? 

24-25 

Study  carefully  M.'s  manner  of  building  up  the  topic  dealt 
with  in  these  two  paragraphs.  Why  is  so  much  more  space 
given  to  the  essays  than  to  the  tragedy  Irene? 

26 

Are  the  short  sentences  suggestive  of  sobs?  Is  the  fifth  art- 
fully constructed?     Comment  on  the  sentence  beginning  She 


380  APPENDIX 

was  gone.  Does  the  last  sentence,  so  business-like,  seem  out 
of  harmony  with  what  precedes?  Was  M.  a  man  of  tender 
emotions?  Does  he  know  how  to  juggle  with  words  and  sen- 
tences? 

27 

Read,  if  you  have  access  to  it,  the  letter  and  the  preface 
referred  to.  Why  has  the  letter  been  termed  the  declaration  of 
independence  of  English  letters?    Explain  the  term  patronage. 

28 
Explain :  etymologist,  Junius  and  SMmier.    Name  the  faults 
and  the  virtues  of  the  Dictionary.    Make  a  topical  plan  of  all 
the  paragraphs  dealing  with  the  Dictionary. 

29 

Explain  spunging  houses.  What  would  be  an  appropriate 
heading  for  the  paragraph? 

30 

Why  is  the  Idler  given  less  space  than  the  Rambler?  Is  M. 
careful  to  preserve  due  proportions? 

31 

Notice  the  transition.  What  is  gained  by  placing  the  word 
Rasselas  last? 

32 

Has  this  paragraph  too  an  effective  conclusion — a  little  sur- 
prise for  the  reader?  Who  is  Lydia  Languish?  What  is  Rasselas 
about?  Is  it  prose  or  poetry?  How  many  forms  of  literature 
has  Johnson  attempted  thus  far? 

33 

If  you  have  read  Rasselas,  answer  Macaulay's  criticism. 
Comment  on  gorged  with  raw  steaks  cut  from  living  cows. 

34 

Make  a  careful  study  of  this  artfully  constructed  paragraph. 


APPENDIX  381 

35 

Is  the  first  sentence  topical?  Should  the  topical  sentence 
always  come  first?    What  is  gained  by  the  repetition  of  daily? 

36 

Find  examples  of  word  repetition.  Is  it  effective  as  here 
employed?  Notice  the  force  of  the  phrase  ''making  fools  of  so 
many  philosophers;''  then  find,  later  in  the  paragraph,  a  similar 
antithesis.  Do  you  think  the  less  of  Johnson  for  investigating  the 
Cock  Lane  Ghost?  for  delaying  so  long  his  edition  of  Shakespeare? 
Would  it  be  well  for  our  government  to  pension  prominent  men 
of  letters?  Would  it  be  well  to  revive  the  custom  of  patronage, 
men  of  wealth  supporting  needy  authors  of  promise? 

37 

What  praise  has  Macaulay  for  the  edition  of  Shakespeare? 
What  censure?  Do  you  suspect  that  the  censure  is  partly  un- 
just? Would  M.  make  a  good  editor  of  the  plays  of  Shakespeare? 
What  is  meant  by  conjectural  emendation?  Who  is  Ben?  How 
do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  Johnson  received  so  many 
honors  at  this  time?    Explain  Royal  Academy. 

38 

How  is  the  transition  made  from  the  edition  of  Shakespeare 
to  the  Club?  What  is  M.'s  explanation  of  Johnson's  "colloquial 
talents"?  Explain:  pompous  triads,  casuistry.  How  do  you 
account  for  the  fact  that  skilled  conversationalists  are  rarer 
today  than  in  the  eighteenth  century?  Is  the  Club  still  in  ex- 
istence? How  do  you  account  for  the  fact  that  so  many  of  the 
great  writers  of  Johnson's  day  hved  in  London?  What  is  Amer- 
ica's literary  center?  If  a  similar  club  of  American  writers 
were  to  be  formed,  would  it  exert  an  influence  similar  to  that 
of  Johnson's  Club?  If  you  wished  to  make  a  careful  study  of 
the  Club,  to  what  book  would  you  turn? 

39 

Careful  investigation  reveals  that  most  of  the  uncompli- 
mentary epithets  bestowed  upon  Bos  well  are  undeserved.  Is 
M.'s  unfair  treatment  due  to  prejudice,  to  lack  of  correct  in- 
formation, or  to  a  desire  to  make  the  friendship  between  John- 


382  APPENDIX 

son  and  Boswell  seem  inexplicable?  Pick  out  examples  of  the 
balanced  sentence.  Read,  at  random,  a  few  pages  of  Boswell's 
Life,  then  contrast  Boswell  and  Macaulay  as  biographers. 

40 

Notice  the  transition.  Comment  on  the  characterization 
of  Mrs.  Thrale,  and  try  to  explain  the  friendship  between  her 
and  Johnson.  What  is  gained  by  once  more  reminding  the 
reader  of  Johnson's  disagreeable  eccentricities?  Does  the 
account  of  the  friendship  raise  Johnson  in  your  estimation? 
Should  the  description  of  the  Fleet  Street  "establishment"  have 
been  placed  in  a  paragraph  by  itself.  The  establishment  might 
have  been  mentioned  much  earlier;  why  is  it  brought  in  at  this 
point?  Does  the  account  increase  your  respect  for  Johnson?  for 
Macaulay?  Why  does  M.  note  that  J.'s  books  are  ''faUing  to 
pieces  and  covered  with  dust"?  How  do  you  account  for  J.'s 
kindness  toward  the  "menagerie "?  In  what  ways  is  M.'s  literary 
skill  shown  in  this  paragraph? 

41 

Notice  the  time  guide  in  the  opening  sentence.  Where  are 
the  Hebrides?  What  works  had  J.  published  previous  to  the 
Journey  to  Western  Islands?  Comment  on  the  sentence  "They 
published  paragraphs  in  the  newspapers,  articles  in  the  maga- 
zines, six-penny  pamphlets,  five  shilling  books." 

42 

Why  did  Johnson,  by  nature  a  controversialist,  pay  little 
attention  to  hostile  critics?  Explain:  sophistry,  sarcasm,  invec- 
tive, apophthegm. 

43 

Are  you  willing  to  trust  Macaulay  the  Whig  in  his  estimate 
of  a  Tory  pamphlet?  What  has  taken  the  place  of  pamphlets 
in  political  controversy? 

44 

Notice  that  in  this  paragraph  the  transitional  sentence  comes 
at  the  end. 

45-9 

What  does  M.  gain  by  mentioning  specifically  the  names 
of  Johnson's  literary  acquaintances?     From  v/hat  you  have 


APPENDIX  383 

learned  of  J.  in  this  essay,  what  traits  of  character  did  he  possess, 
should  you  say,  that  a  biographer  ought  to  have?  Why  is 
paragraph  48  so  brief?  Does  M.  ever  say  /  think,  or  is  he  always 
sure  that  he  is  right? 

50 

Take  a  few  minutes  to  imagine  what  reply  the  wife  of  the 
"Italian  fiddler"  would  make  to  this  paragraph,  were  she  alive 
today.  If  you  care  to  know  more  about  Mrs.  Thrale,  consult 
Boswell's  Life.  Do  you  recall  any  other  scene  pictured  by 
Macaulay  more  pathetic  than  Johnson's  last  visit  to  Streatham? 
Was  it  necessary  for  M.  to  tell  when  and  where  news  of  J.'s 
death  reached  the  Piozzis?  How  do  you  account  for  the  fact 
that  on  her  return  to  England  Mrs.  Piozzi  was  well  received? 

51 

Which  is  the  better  written  paragraph,  this  or  the  one  telling 
of  Mrs.  Johnson's  death?  Who  are  entitled  to  burial  in  West- 
minster Abbey? 

52 

Study  this  paragraph  carefully,  and  be  prepared  to  show 
that  it  forms  an  admirable  conclusion.  Do  you  agree  that 
Johnson  was  a  great  and  good  man? 

General  Questions 

Make  a  list  of  Johnson's  principal  works.  Which  of  these 
works  first  brought  him  to  public  notice?  Which  brought  him 
fame?  Which  is  best  known  today?  Which  should  you  like  to 
read?  Are  you  sufficiently  interested  to  care  to  read  Boswell's 
Life?  What  scenes  in  Johnson's  life  has  M.  pictured  most 
vividly?    What  do  you  admire  most  in  Johnson's  character? 

In  what  respects  is  M.  a  good  biographer,  and  in  what  respects 
is  he  open  to  criticism?  What  do  you  admire  most  in  his  skill  as 
a  writer?  Have  you  had  to  consult  the  dictionary  often  while 
reading  the  essay,  or  is  his  vocabulary  reasonably  simple?  Have 
you  had  difficulty  at  any  point  in  grasping  the  meaning,  due  to 
the  fact  that  sentences  were  clumsily  constructed?  Find  an 
example  of  each  of  the  following:  (1)  a  transitional  phrase  at  the 
beginning  of  a  paragraph,  (2)  a  transition  at  the  close  of  a  para- 
graph, (3)  a  phrase  introduced  to  help  the  reader  to  keep  the 


384  APPENDIX 

chronological  sequence,  (4)  a  topical  sentence,  (5)  a  balanced 
sentence,  (6)  word  repetition  for  emphasis,  (7)  rapid  character- 
ization, (8)  a  passage  rendered  graphic  through  vivid  details, 
(9)  unnecessary  coarseness,  (10)  exaggeration,  (11)  unpleasant 
positiveness,  (12)  careless  misstatement.  What  in  Macaulay's 
skill  as  a  writer  do  you  envy  most?  What  have  you  gained 
through  reading  the  essay? 

SCOTT'S  LADY  OF  THE  LAKE 
Canto  First 

1.  Explain  the  following:  Ascabart,  bland,  blithe,  boon,  cairn, 
Caledon,  cloister,  copse,  errant-knight,  Ferragus,  filial,  gauntlet, 
high  emprise,  lave,  martial,  matins,  mere,  mien.  Naiad,  orison, 
quarry,  reveille,  rood,  snood,  sylvan,  target,  tapestry,  unwonted, 
whinyard.  2.  Explain  the  following  lines:  114,  194-7,  270-3, 
296-7,  309-10.  3.  Would  the  beginning  have  been  equally 
effective  had  Fitz-James  met  Ellen  while  he  was  taking  a  long 
tramp  through  the  Trossachs?  4.  Why  is  the  chase  made 
so  furious,  all  the  hunters,  save  one,  outdistanced  by  the  stag? 

5.  Why  does  the  story-teller  have  the  stag  escape,  the  horse  die? 

6.  Is  the  description  of  the  Trossachs  and  Loch  Katrine  so  care- 
fully done  that  you  can  make  a  simple  topical  plan  of  it?  7.  Does 
the  description  read  like  one  written  after  a  visit  to  the  region? 
8.  Does  it  show  famiUarity  with  nature?  9.  Would  the  canto 
have  been  equally  effective  had  it  begun  with  a  description  of 
the  region?  10.  Why  does  Scott  delay  describing  the  personal 
appearance  of  the  hunter  till  his  meeting  with  Ellen?  11.  What 
hints  are  given  that  Ellen  is  of  noble  birth?  that  she  has  a  lover? 
12.  How  do  you  explain  the  mystery  concerning  the  invisible 
harp  that  plays  while  Ellen  sings?  13.  How  do  you  account  for 
the  knight's  dream?  14.  The  transitions  in  this  canto  are  inter- 
esting; how  does  the  poet  pass  from  the  hunt  to  the  description 
of  the  Trossachs,  from  the  Trossachs  to  Loch  Katrine,  from 
Loch  Katrine  to  Ellen?  15.  The  canto  contains  a  number  of 
interesting  comparisons — similes  and  metaphors;  without  re- 
reading, try  to  recall  to  what  each  of  the  following  is  hkened: 
the  stag  on  hearing  the  hounds,  the  hunters  passing  through  the 
glen,  the  rocky  summits  in  the  Trossachs,  Loch  Katrine,  the 
mountains  surrounding  Katrine,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake.    16.  Are 


APPENDIX  385 

these  comparisons  appropriate?  17.  In  the  third  stanza,  how 
many  words  can  you  discover  that  were  chosen,  apparently, 
because  their  sound  suggests  the  spirited  scene  described? 
18.  Note  how  quiet  the  concluding  lines  of  the  stanza  are  when 
compared  with  the  first.  Are  there  certain  letters  which  have  a 
hush  sound?  19.  Where  else  in  the  canto  have  you  noted  ex- 
amples of  onomatopoeia?  20.  What  in  the  canto  have  you  en- 
joyed most?  21.  What  questions  concerning  the  rest  of  the 
story  are  left  in  the  reader's  mind?  22.  Memorize  the  fourteenth 
stanza,  or  some  other  that  you  hke  better.  23.  Write  a  para- 
graph beginning  with  one  of  the  following  sentences:  (a)  The 
canto  contains  not  a  little  that  is  mysterious,  (b)  The  plan  of 
the  canto  is  very  simple,  (c)  I  know  a  lake  which,  like  Loch 
Katrine,  is  very  beautiful,  (d)  Fitz- James  makes  a  very  good 
hero. 

Canto  Second 

1.  Explain:  assuage,  boding,  bourgeon,  foray,  glozing,  guerdon, 
henchman,  Holy-Rood,  homicide,  meedj  pibroch,  reave,  sable, 
strathspey,  vindictive,  votaress.  2.  Explain  the  following  lines: 
165,  200,  391-2,  540-1,  577-8,  615-22,  805-6.  3.  Explain 
clearly  (a)  what  claim  Roderick  has  on  Ellen's  affections,  (b)  why 
she  does  not  wish  to  marry  Roderick,  (c)  why  an  attack  from 
the  royal  forces  is  feared.  4.  Without  rereading,  make  a  simple 
topical  plan  of  the  canto,  employing  but  three  or  four  headings. 
5.  Is  the  canto  somewhat  dramatic  in  construction,  the  in- 
terest increasing  toward  the  end?  6.  Is  the  most  exciting  in- 
cident at  the  very  close  of  the  canto?  7.  What  mystery  in 
the  first  canto  is  cleared  up  in  the  second?  8.  What  new  ques- 
tions arise  in  the  reader's  mind?  9.  What  is  the  purpose  of 
the  stanzas  teUing  of  the  stranger's  farewell  and  the  conversation 
between  Ellen  and  Allan?  10.  How  is  the  transition  made  from 
these  stanzas  to  the  account  of  the  home-coming  of  Roderick? 
11.  Can  you  think  of  a  good  reason  why  Scott  brought  Fitz- 
James  to  the  Isle  during  the  absence  of  Roderick?  12.  What  do 
you  find  to  admire  in  the  account  of  the  approach  and  arrival  of 
the  chief?  13.  It  has  been  noted  that  in  the  third  stanza  of  the 
first  canto,  the  sound  suggests  the  sense.  In  the  Boat  Song  there 
is  a  successful  attempt  to  indicate  the  measured  swing  of  the 
rowers.  Read  the  Song  aloud,  stressing  the  syllables  in  such  a 
way  as  to  indicate  the  stroke  of  the  oars.    14.  Compare  the  way 


386  APPENDIX 

in  which  Roderick  is  brought  into  the  story  with  the  way  in 
which  Fitz-James  is  introduced.  15.  What  is  gained  by  having 
Douglas  and  Roderick  return  at  the  same  time?  16.  How  many 
rival  suitors  do  you  discover,  and  which  do  you  think  has  the 
best  chance  of  winning  Ellen?  17.  Is  the  second  canto  more 
interesting  than  the  first?  18.  What  do  you  like  best  in  it? 
19.  Do  you  recall  an  elaborate  simile,  many  lines  long?  20.  Mem- 
orize the  Boat  Song,  or  some  other  passage  that  you  hke  better. 

21.  Write  a  paragraph,  using  one  of  the  following  as  a  topical 
sentence:  (a)  The  return  of  Roderick  is  in  marked  contrast  to 
the  return  of  Douglas,  (b)  The  tune  played  by  the  pipers  tells  a 
thrilling  story,  (c)  The  three  songs  found  in  the  first  two  cantos 
differ  widely  in  character,     (d)  Ellen's  position  is  most  trying. 

22.  Try  to  form  clear  mind-pictures  from  what  is  suggested  in 
the  following  lines,  letting  the  imagination  have  full  swing: 
66-7,  141,  277-82,  592-4. 

Canto  Third 

1.  Explain:  anathema,  augured,  Ave  Maria,  Ben-Shie,  bracken, 
chalice,  compeers,  coronach,  correi,  Druid,  execration,  fay.  Fiery 
Cross,  goading,  imprecation,  Inch-Cailliach,  murky,  patriarch, 
sage,  satyr,  searest,  sepulchral,  sequestered,  snood,  strath,  un- 
wonted. 2.  Explain  the  following  fines:  135-44,  161-2,  465, 
629-31.  3.  Scott  has  his  choice  of  all  kinds  of  weather;  why 
does  he  begin  this  canto  with  nature  quiet  and  peaceful?  4.  If 
you  were  preparing  an  ifiust rated  edition  of  the  poem,  what 
eight  scenes  would  you  like  to  have  pictured  to  go  with  this 
canto?  5.  Of  all  the  scenes,  which  stands  out  most  vividly? 
6.  Why  is  Brian's  history  given  in  such  detail?  7.  What  three 
curses  does  the  priest  pronounce?  8.  Through  what  similes 
are  the  responses,  made  by  the  clansmen,  emphasized?  9.  Trace 
the  symbofism  of  the  ceremony,  showing  why  the  cross  is 
made  as  it  is,  why  it  is  scathed  by  fire  and  dipped  in  blood. 

10.  Why  does  Scott  introduce  the  funeral  scene  and  the  wedding? 

11.  What  similes  are  employed  in  an  effort  to  show  the  speed  of 
the  runners?  12.  Study  the  figures  in  the  Coronach.  13.  How 
does  this  canto  compare  with  the  preceding  ones  in  interest? 
14.  What  do  you  like  best  in  it?  15.  Memorize  the  thirteenth 
stanza.  16.  Write  a  paragraph  beginning  with  one  of  the  follow- 
ing sentences:  (a)  Clan  loyalty  is  well  illustrated  in  the  way  all 


APPENDIX  ,387 

obey  the  summons  of  the  Fiery  Cross,  (b)  The  close  of  the  canto 
is  much  quieter  than  the  preceding  stanzas,  (c)  Evidently  one  of 
the  poet's  purposes  in  telling  the  story  is  to  picture  bygone  cus- 
toms, (d)  The  first  nine  hnes  of  the  canto  contain  an  unusual 
number  of  figures  of  speech. 

Canto  Fourth 

1.  Explain:  apprehensive,  augury,  houne,  fane,  glaive,  imbrue, 
inured,  kern,  pall  and  vair,  weeds,  wold.  2.  Explain  the  fol- 
lowing lines:  55-6,  100-105,  110-17,  419,  468-71,  743-8,  780. 
3.  Describe  the  Taghairm  ceremony.  4.  Which  to  you  is 
the  more  gruesome,  the  Taghairm  or  the  ceremony  connected 
with  the  preparation  of  the  Fiery  Cross?  5.  Tell  the  story 
of  Alice  Brand,  beginning  Once  upon  a  time.  6.  Tell  the  story 
of  Blanche  of  De van.  7.  Interpret  Blanche's  song  (xxv).  8.  The 
boat  which  bears  Ellen  and  Fitz-James  to  the  Isle  is  also  called 
skiff,  shallop,  and  barge.  Do  you  recall  any  of  Scott's  favor- 
ite substitutes  for  the  word  sword?  Why  does  he  employ  syn- 
onyms so  freely?  9.  The  conversation  between  Ellen  and 
the  minstrel  in  the  second  canto  serves  to  explain  the  situation; 
what  is  learned  from  their  conversation  in  canto  fourth?  10.  What 
is  gained  by  teUing  where  the  bull  came  from  that  was  slain  for 
the  Taghairm?  11.  What  is  gained  by  introducing  Blanche  of 
Devan?  12.  What  do  you  find  to  like  in  stanzas  xxix-xxxi? 
13.  What  is  the  most  exciting  moment  in  the  canto?  14.  Mem- 
orize the  thirtieth  stanza.  15.  Write  a  paragraph  beginning  with 
one  of  the  following  sentences:  (a)  Allan-bane  possesses  a  wonder- 
ful harp,  (b)  The  minstrel  is  also  a  gifted  dreamer,  (c)  Evi- 
dently Highland  hospitality  is  a  favorite  theme  with  Scott. 

(d)  It  is  difficult  to  decide  at  what  point  in  the  story  Fitz-James 
is  most  attractive — as  a  hunter,  as  a  guest  at  Roderick's  lodge, 
as  suitor  at  Ellen's  cave,  or  as  he  appears  in  the  campfire  scene. 

(e)  Among  the  appropriate  similes  in  this  canto  are  those  found 
in  the  following  hnes:  199-203,  299-300,  544-7.  (f)  The  Tag- 
hairm prophecy  and  Fitz-James's  ring  provide  hints  of  how  the 
story  will  end. 

Canto  Fifth 

1.  Explain:  apparition,  arraignment,  banditti,  buffet,  burghers, 
butts,  carpet  knight,  clemency,  cognizance,  cumbered,  invulner- 
able,   morrice-dancers,    retribution.      2.  Explain    the    following 


388  APPENDIX 

lines:  75-9,  123,  182,  443-4,  461-2,  543-4,  660,  887.  3.  If  you 
were  making  a  plan  of  this  canto,  what  three  or  four  topics 
would  you  employ?  4.  In  their  conversation  while  on  the 
way  to  Coilantogle,  what  three  charges  does  the  knight  bring 
against  Roderick,  and  how  are  they  answered?  5.  Would  the 
combat  have  been  as  exciting  had  there  been  spectators?  had 
the  combatants  not  been  rival  suitors?  had  Brian's  prophecy 
been  different?  had  Fitz-James  not  vowed  to  avenge  Blanche  of 
Devan?  had  Roderick  not  entertained  his  foe?  6.  With  which 
combatant  does  the  reader  sympathize?  7.  Does  Scott  introduce 
the  games  at  Stirling  because  the  account  is  needed  in  the  story, 
or  because  he  wishes  to  show  the  customs  of  long  ago?  8.  Are 
the  contests  interesting  and  the  outcome  probable?  9.  What  is 
the  purpose  of  Douglas  in  going  to  Stirling?  10.  Does  Fitz- 
James  know  that  Douglas  is  Ellen's  father?  11.  How  do  you 
account  for  the  knight's  harsh  treatment  of  Douglas?  12.  What 
are  the  most  dramatic  moments  in  the  canto?  13.  What  ques- 
tions are  uppermost  in  the  reader's  mind  at  its  close?  14.  What 
figures  are  found  in  the  following  lines:  347,  348,  390,  897-8? 
15.  Show  that  the  figures  in  lines  188-9  and  407-10  are  appro- 
priate. 16.  Do  you  recall  anywhere  in  the  canto  a  series  of  brief, 
sharp  contrasts?  17.  What  do  you  like  best  in  the  canto? 
18.  Memorize  stanzas  ix-x.  19.  Write  a  paragraph,  employing 
one  of  the  following  as  a  topical  sentence:  (a)  This  canto  contains 
good  illustrations  of  "martial  Faith  and  Courtesy's  bright  star." 

(b)  The  conversation  between  Roderick  and  Fitz-James  leaves 
the  reader  with  a  far  better  impression  of  the  former's  character. 

(c)  The  games  at  Stirling  differ  in  a  number  of  respects  from  an 
athletic  contest  of  today,  (d)  I  see  much  to  admire  in  Scott's 
skill  as  shown  in  the  account  of  the  combat. 

Canto  Sixth 

1.  Explain:  caitiff,  collation,  eyry,  fealty,  gyve,  jeopardy,  leech, 
proselyte,  refluent,  requiem,  tinchell.  2.  Explain  the  following 
lines:  43-4,  621-2,  704-5,  707.  3.  Nearly  all  the  characters, 
you  have  noted,  come  together  in  this  canto.  Tell  how  each 
happens  to  be  in  Stirling.  4.  Some  critics  condemn  the  guard- 
room scene;  does  it  seem  objectionable  to  you?  5.  What  is 
gained  by  having  Allan  tell  of  the  battle?  Why  have  him  tell 
it  to  Roderick?   7.  Why  have  Roderick  die?   Would  it  have  been 


APPENDIX  389 

equally  dramatic  to  have  him  pardoned?  8.  Why  not  conclude 
with  Roderick's  burial  or  Ellen's  wedding?  9.  Contrast  the  con- 
cluding scene  with  the  opening  of  canto  first.  10.  How  do  you 
account  for  the  fact  that  the  similes  in  the  description  of  the 
battle  have  to  do  with  nature  in  angry  mood — with  mountain 
cascades,  whirlpools,  earthquakes?  11.  Why  do  so  many  similes 
take  the  reader  to  nature?  12.  Of  all  the  scenes  in  this  canto, 
which  will  probably  remain  longest  in  your  memory? 

General  Questions 

1.  How  many  days  are  covered  by  the  incidents  of  the  story? 
2.  Does  the  story  owe  much  of  its  interest  to  the  fact  that  the 
setting  is  one  of  great  romantic  beauty?  3.  What  characters 
in  the  story  do  you  admire,  and  for  what  reasons?  4.  Which 
character  seems  truest  to  life?  5.  What,  on  the  whole,  is  the 
most  beautiful  description  in  the  poem?  the  most  exciting  in- 
cident? the  best  song?  the  greatest  surprise?  6.  What  pur- 
pose is  served  by  the  songs?  7.  If  you  have  studied  versifica- 
tion, give  the  metrical  plan  of  each  song.  8.  What  evidence 
does  the  poem  afford  that  Scott  was  fond  of  history?  fond  of 
nature?  that  he  was  an  antiquary?  that  he  was  a  gentleman? 
9.  Write  a  paragraph  on  one  of  the  following  topics:  (a)  The 
most  brilliant  scene  in  the  poem,  (b)  The  duties  of  a  minstrel, 
(c)  The  battle,    (d)  The  signet  ring. 


GOLDSMITH'S  THE  DESERTED  VILLAGE 
Lines  1-34 

What  is  the  purpose  of  these  lines?  Is  Auburn  a  real  place 
or  purely  imaginary?  Pick  out  twenty  or  more  descriptive 
adjectives;  pause  after  each  and  see  how  much  of  a  picture 
it  brings  to  mind.  By  way  of  seeing  whether  the  adjectives  are 
well  chosen,  try  to  substitute  better  ones,  or  ones  equally  ap- 
propriate. Pick  out  the  five  best  adjectives.  Find  Unes  in  which 
some  sound,  either  vowel  or  consonantal,  is  pleasantly  repeated. 
Find  hnes  where  the  sounds  seem  to  run  together  harmoniously, 
as  colors  are  sometimes  blended.  What  are  some  of  the  more 
melodious  lines?  What  makes  the  last  line  so  effective?  Are  all 
the  rhymes  perfect?    Find  ten  Unes  in  which  two  short  syllables 


390  APPENDIX 

are  treated  as  one.    Would  the  versification  be  better  if  per- 
fectly regular? 

Lines  35-50 

Purpose?  How  do  the  pictures  in  this  passage,  taken  col- 
lectively, differ  from  those  in  the  preceding  passage?  What 
is  the  relationship  between  the  two  passages?  Which  do  you 
like  better?  Which  picture  is  saddest?  Were  you  an  artist, 
which  picture  would  you  like  to  paint?  Find  lines  here  and  there 
in  which  sound  echoes  sense.  What  vowels  are  prominent  in 
11.  40,  42,  47,  and  50?  How  many  hues  containing  slurred 
syllables  do  you  find  in  this  passage?  Are  any  of  the  feet  tro- 
chaic? How  do  you  scan  1.  48?  Are  all  the  rhymes  perfect?  Is 
there  a  shght  pause  at  the  end  of  each  line?  Is  the  pause  at  the 
end  of  alternate  lines  more  pronounced?  Do  the  longer  pauses 
serve  to  emphasize  the  rhyme? 

Lines  51-56 

Explain  11.  52,  53-6.  Do  you  believe  the  statement  made 
in  this  passage?  Why  cannot  a  peasantry  be  replaced?  Are 
peasants  bolder  than  others?  Why  are  they,  rather  than  the 
merchants,  a  country's  pride?  Are  farmers  more  patriotic  than 
city  people? 

Lines  57-62 

How  much  is  a  rood?  Express  in  plain  prose,  free  from  figur- 
ative language,  11.  59-62;  then  compare  your  prose  with  Gold- 
smith's lines  to  see  whether  you  or  the  poet  has  employed  the 
greater  number  of  words.  Is  poetry  usually  more  compact  than 
prose? 

Lines  63-74 

Explain  the  meaning  and  force  of  unfeeling,  usurp,  unwieldy, 
cumbrous,  lawn.  Explain  11.  67-8.  Is  line  74  applicable  to 
America?    Which  do  you  prefer,  11.  1-50  or  11.  51-74?    Why? 

Lines  75-82 

Explain  1.  76.  What  pictures  are  suggested  to  you  by  tangling 
walks?  by  ruined  grounds?  What  figure  of  speech  does  Gold- 
smith employ  most  commonly? 


APPENDIX  391 

Lines  83-96 

Explain:  my  latest  hours  to  crown,  husband  out  life's  taper, 
for  pride  attends  us  still.  How  old  was  G.  when  he  wrote  this 
poem?  Do  you  know  what  had  been  his  griefs?  Where  and 
under  what  circumstances  did  he  die?  What  do  you  note  about 
the  letters  in  1.  94?  What  figure  of  speech  in  11.  93-6?  Is  the 
comparison  a  good  one? 

Lines  97-112 

Explain  11.  103-6.  Is  guilty  used  in  its  ordinary  sense?  Would 
it  be  well  to  substitute  beggars  for  famine  in  1.  106?  Do  you  like 
the  expression  latter  end?  Explain  1.  108.  What  is  the  force 
of  bends  as  here  employed?    Explain  1.  112. 

Lines  113-36 

Explain  responsive.  Is  sober  an  appropriate  adjective  to 
apply  to  herd?  In  I.  122,  is  the  adjective  vacant  uncompliment- 
ary? Is  loud  laughter  a  sign  of  low  intelligence?  Meaning 
of  sought  the  shade?  Were  it  not  for  rhyme,  would  it  be  well 
to  substitute  dame  for  thing  in  1.  129?  Explain  11.  133,  136. 
Do  you  find  any  lines,  in  this  passage,  where  sound  echoes  sense? 
Where  else,  thus  far,  has  Goldsmith  drawn  sharp  contrasts? 
Do  you  like  this  passage  better  than  the  preceding  one?  What 
are  some  of  the  best  lines?  If  you  were  an  artist,  what  in  this 
passage  would  you  hke  to  picture? 

Lines  137-62 
What  is  a  copse?    Explain  11.  142,  146,  151,  155,  162. 

Lines  163-70 
Explain  11.  164,  167-70.    Is  the  comparison  in  the  last  three 
lines  an  appropriate  one? 

Lines  171-76 

Explain  the  force  of  champion.  What  is  the  antecedent  of 
his  in  1.  175?    Who  is  praised  (1.  176)? 

Lines  177-92 

Explain:  unaffected  grace,  adorned,  prevailed  ivith  double  sway^ 
endearing  wile.    What  word  should  be  emphasized  in  1.  185? 


392  APPENDIX 

Explain  with  care  11.  189-192.  Do  you  like  this  comparison 
better  than  the  one  in  11.  167-70?  The  fifty-five  lines  devoted 
to  the  preacher  are  grouped  in  four  paragraphs;  do  you  see 
why  G.  did  not  combine  them  in  one  paragraph?  Could  the 
paragraphs  be  rearranged  to  advantage,  or  is  there  method  in 
their  sequence?  What  paragraph,  if  any,  could  be  spared?  Do 
you  suspect  that  the  preacher  is  not  imaginary?  From  what 
kind  of  home  did  Goldsmith  come?  Looking  upon  the  fifty-five 
lines  as  a  whole,  what  do  you  see  in  them  to  admire? 

Lines  193-216 

Explain:  unprofitably  gay,  boding,  terms  and  tides  presage. 
In  1.  198  should  stress  fall  on  every  or  on  tyrant?  Does  G.  wish 
us  to  think  the  master  a  scholarly  man?  Were  the  villagers 
fairly  intelligent?  Do  you  know  anything  about  Goldsmith's 
schooldays?  How  does  the  portrait  of  the  master  compare 
with  that  of  Ichabod  Crane  in  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow?  Which 
is  the  more  carefully  drawn  portrait,  the  preacher's  or  the  mas- 
ter's? 

Lines  217-36 

Do  the  first  two  lines  belong,  logically,  with  the  preceding 
paragraph?  Do  we  commonly  associate  mirth  with  grey-beards 
and  smiles  with  toil?  Why,  in  1.  225,  is  imagination  represented 
as  stooping?  What  is  Goldsmith's  purpose  in  noting  that  the 
clock  is  varnished?  Explain  for  ornament  and  use.  Notice  with 
how  few  words  G.  gives  a  satisfactory  picture,  then  try  to  dis- 
cover the  secret  of  his  art  in  description.  Find  lines  in  which 
the  vowel  sounds  harmonize  effectively. 

Lines  237-50 

To  what  transitory  splendors  does  G.  refer?  Explain  reprieve. 
Explain  11.  239-40.  Why  not  news  from  the  barber  and  tales 
from  the  farmer?  In  the  word  careful  is  there  a  hint  that  the 
inn-keeper  has  a  keen  eye  for  profits?  Is  there  any  sadder  re- 
frain than  No  more?  Why  are  the  words  repeated?  Of  the 
three  pictures — the  preacher  and  his  flock,  the  master  and 
his  pupils,  and  the  group  at  the  tavern — which  do  you  like  best? 
In  what  respects  are  all  three  good?  How  do  they  differ  from 
the  pictures  that  a  camera  shows? 


APPENDIX  393 

Lines  251-64 

Explain:  native  charm,  gloss  of  art,  I.  254.  What  does  G. 
mean  when  he  says  the  soul  adopts  spontaneous  joys?  What 
is  the  antecedent  of  theij  in  1.  257?  Explain  toiling  pleasures. 
Is  it  true  that  the  poor  are  happier  than  the  rich?  Do  you  think 
that  Goldsmith's  poverty  made  him  unduly  bitter  towards  the 
rich? 

Lines  265-86 

What  is  meant  by  a  splendid  land?  Explain  carefully,  using 
no  figurative  language,  11.  269-70.  Is  For,  1.  284,  a  preposition 
or  a  conjunction?  In  1.  285  is  land  used  in  the  same  sense  as 
fields  in  1.  280?  Explain  the  force  of  barren  in  1.  286.  Is  it  true 
that  as  the  rich  grow  richer  the  poor  grow  poorer? 

Lines  287-302 

Explain  11.  290,  298,  302.  Note  that  this  passage  is  a  simile 
worked  out  in  detail.    Give  this  comparison  in  simpler  language. 

Lines  303-308 
What  newly  passed  law  is  referred  to? 

Lines  309-36 

Explain  baneful,  1.  311.  Is  artist,  1.  316,  used  in  the  sense  of 
painter?  What  had  G.  in  mind  when  wTiting  1.  318?  What 
is  the  derivation  of  dome,  1.  319?  There  are  several  fine  lines 
in  this  passage;  find  them.    Scan  1.  326. 

Lines  337-62 

Explain  participate  her  pain.  Where  is  the  Altama?  WTiich 
is  the  better  passage,  11.  309-36  or  11.  341-62?  Is  1.  343  in  any 
way  remarkable?  Do  you  like  1.  350?  Do  you  find  other  at- 
tractive lines?  Is  Goldsmith  proud  of  the  fact  that  the  people 
upon  leaving  Auburn  did  not  go  to  the  city? 

Lines  363-84 

Explain  western  main,  1.  368;  in  conscious  virtue  brave,  1.  373; 
thoughtless,  1.  381;  neglectful  of  her  charms,  1.  377;  native  walks, 
J.  364.    Is  the  scene  described  in  this  passage  as  graphic  as  the 


394  APPENDIX 

scenes  described  earlier  in  the  poem?    Is  this  passage  better 
than  the  preceding? 

Lines  385-94 

Explain  insidious,  florid.  What  two  things  are  compared  in 
this  passage?  Is  the  comparison  a  pleasing  .one?  Is  it  a  justifi- 
able one? 

Lines  395-430 

What  devastation  is  referred  to  in  1.  395?  Who  make  up 
the  melancholy  band?  Name  the  rural  virtues.  Are  these 
virtues,  should  you  say,  found  only  in  the  country?  Explain 
11.  407-10,  415,  416,  428.  How  can  poetry  Redress  the  rigors 
of  the  inclement  clime?  Is  poetry  a  powerful  force?  Was  poetry 
at  low  ebb  in  Goldsmith's  day?  Does  poetry  grow  poorer  as 
a  country  grows  wealthier?  Does  the  final  paragraph  make 
an  appropriate  ending? 

General  Questions 

What  have  you  enjoyed  most  in  the  poem?  If  you  could 
preserve  but  one  paragraph,  which  would  it  be?  What  pas- 
sages have  you  disliked?  What,  in  studying  the  poem,  has 
caused  you  most  effort?  Pick  out  five  or  six  exceptionally  good 
lines.  Could  Goldsmith  have  accomplished  his  purpose  just 
as  well  in  prose?  What  was  his  purpose?  What  devices,  be- 
sides rhyme  and  meter,  has  G.  employed  to  make  his  lines  effect- 
ive? How  does  the  poem  differ  from  those  published  today? 
What  new  ideas  have  you  received  from  the  poem?  Is  Gold- 
smith better  at  preaching  or  at  picturing  familiar  scenes?  Is 
your  interest  in  Goldsmith  such  that  you  would  enjoy  reading 
a  life  of  the  author — Irving's,  for  example? 

MILTON'S  LALLEGRO 

Lines  1-10 

Explain:  V Allegro,  Melancholy,  Cerberus,  Stygian,  Cimmerian^ 
uncouth,  low-browed.  Darkness  broods  over  what  and  is  jealous 
of  what?  What  is  gained  by  YAmoAng  jealous,  which  characterizes 
Darkness,  before  wings?  Why  not  the  nightingale  instead  of 
the  raven?  Are  the  pictures  suggested  by  these  lines  such  as 
an  artist  could  paint?  Is  the  indistinctness  a  blemish?  If  the 
poem  were  read  to  one  unacquainted  with  our  language,  could 


APPENDIX  395 

he  tell  that  the  mood  of  these  lines  differs  from  the  mood  of  the 
rest  of  the  poem?  The  rest  of  the  poem  is  written  in  smooth- 
flowing  tetrameter;  why  are  these  lines  given  a  different  meter? 
What  is  the  most  melodious  line?  the  most  expulsive?  What 
would  be  an  appropriate  heading  for  these  lines? 

Lines  11-40 

Explain:  Venus,  Bacchus,  Zephyr,  Aurora,  Hebe,  the  Graces; 
yclept,  sager,  breathes  the  spring,  buxom,  blithe,  debonair,  quips, 
cranks,  wanton  wiles,  fantastic  toe,  crew.  Why  is  a  second  parent- 
age for  Mirth  suggested?  Why  is  Liberty  made  chief  com- 
panion? Why  is  Liberty  represented  a  mountain  nymph  rather 
than  a  woodland  nymph  or  a  sea  nymph?  Is  the  word  unre- 
proved  (40)  important?  Pick  out  lines  in  which  the  sound  sug- 
gests the  sense.  Pick  out  lines  which  flash  pictures.  Pick 
out  melodious  lines  and  try  to  discover  the  secret  of  their  beauty. 
What  would  be  an  appropriate  heading  for  this  section? 

Lines  41-56 

What  does  the  colon  after  1.  40  indicate?  Can  you  tell,  by 
the  punctuation,  where  one  pleasure  ends  and  the  next  begins? 
Where  is  L'AUegro  when  he  hears  the  lark?  What  suggested  a 
watch-tower  to  the  poet?  Who  is  in  the  tower,  and  what  is 
watched  for?  Why  is  dull  Night  startled?  What  picture  does 
dappled  dawn  bring  to  you?  What  time  is  denoted  by  Then 
(1.  45)?  Meaning  of  in  spite  of  sorrow?  Who  comes  to  the 
window?  Contrast  the  sounds  of  the  words  in  49  with  those  in 
50  and  52.  What  is  onomatopoeia?  Where  is  L' Allegro  when 
listening  to  the  horns?  Where  does  Morn  slumber  latest?  What 
picture  do  you  get  from  hoar  hillf 

Lines  57-68 

Is  the  phrase  not  unseen  important?  What  picture  do  you 
get  from  hedgerow  elms?  In  which  direction  does  LAllegro 
walk?  What  is  suggested  to  him  by  the  rising  sun  and  the  clouds? 
Meaning  of  dightf  What  season  of  the  year  is  it?  Meaning  of 
tells  his  tale? 

Lines  69-90 

Explain:  Straight,  landskip,  lawns,  pied,  cynosure.  By  fal- 
lows does  Milton  mean  plowed  ground?    What  is  there  in  the 


396  APPENDIX 

appearance  of  clouds  to  suggest  that  they  labor?  Where  did 
Milton  find  the  names  Corydon,  Thyrsis,  etc.?  Are  these  people, 
as  you  picture  them,  all  of  the  same  age?  What  time  of  year  is 
in  the  poet's  mind? 

Lines  91-116 

What  time  of  day  is  in  the  poet's  mind?  Meaning  of 
jocund  rebecks,  secure  delight?  What  picture  do  you  get  from 
checkered  shade?  Explain  fairy  Mab  and  Friar's  lantern.  In 
92-3,  what  words  need  emphasizing  to  bring  out  the  meaning? 
How  many  old  British  tales  are  touched  upon  in  these  lines? 
Explain  shadowy  flail.  Pick  out  all  the  words  which  convey  the 
idea  that  the  gobhn  is  coarse  and  large.  Comment  on  113  and 
115. 

Lines  117-134 

What  time  is  intended  by  then  (117)?  Think  of  some  adjec- 
tive other  than  towered  which  might  be  used  in  bringing  quickly 
to  mind  the  appearance  of  a  city.  In  what  way  does  118  re- 
semble 115?  What  cities  does  the  poet  have  in  mind?  Has 
he  in  mind  the  city  on  any  particular  occasion?  What  occasion 
does  high  triumphs  suggest?  Explain  121-4.  Explain:  Hymen, 
mask,  pageantry.  Explain:  well-trod,  learned  sock.  Why  is 
Shakespeare  rather  than  Jonson  called  Fancy's  child?  What 
play  of  Shakespeare's  may  Milton  have  had  in  mind?  What 
would  be  an  appropriate  heading  for  these  fines? 

Lines  135-152 

By  ever  does  Milton  mean  that  he  enjoys  music  at  all  times — 
derives  from  it  his  greatest  pleasure?  Explain  against  eating 
cares,  Lydian,  Lap  me,  meeting  soul.  Has  Milton  instrumental 
music  or  vocal  in  mind?  Wanton  and  heed  seem  to  express 
opposing  ideas;  so  do' giddy  and  cunning.  How  do  you  explain 
the  seeming  contradiction?  Can  you  imagine  a  little  story,  from 
reading  142-5?  Tell  the  story  of  Orpheus.  Note  that  more  lines 
are  devoted  to  music  than  to  any  other  pleasure.  Was  Milton 
a  musician?  What  evidence  does  the  poem  furnish  that  Milton 
had  a  trained  ear? 

General  Questions 

Do  you  find  in  Milton's  list  of  pleasures  any  which  are  not 
"unreproved"?     Is  it  a  list  that  taUies  with  one  you  would 


APPENDIX  397 

make  out?  Would  his  list  have  satisfied  a  courtier  of  his  day? 
In  what  respects  is  it  a  poet's  list?  Is  it  supposed  to  be  complete? 
How  do  you  account  for  the  great  number  of  classical  allusions? 
Which  do  you  like  best — (a)  the  opening  lines  addressed  to 
Melancholy,  (b)  the  invitation  to  Mirth  and  her  companions, 
(c)  the  hues  picturing  an  ideal  day  in  the  country,  (d)  the  lines 
dealing  with  city  pleasures,  or  (e)  the  lines  deahng  with  music? 
Pick  out  five  lines  which  seem  to  you  most  melodious.  Pick  out 
five  which  present  pictures.  What,  finally,  have  you  found  to 
like  in  the  poem? 

IL  PENSEROSO 
Lines  1-10 

Explain:  II  Penseroso,  bested,  fixed  mind,  Morpheus,  fickle 
pensioners.  Are  the  pleasures  mentioned  in  U Allegro  "vain, 
deluding  joys''?  To  what  in  U Allegro  does  idle  brain  corre- 
spond? What  IS  the  object  of  possess?  Is  hovering  an  appro- 
priate epithet?  Do  you  prefer  these  fines  to  the  corresponding 
passage  in  U Allegro? 

Lines  11-30 

Explain:  13-16.  Explain:  Memnon^s  sister,  starred  Ethiop 
queen,  Vesta,  Saturn.  Explain  appropriateness  of  bright-haired 
and  solitary.  Comment  on  the  appropriateness  of  the  parent- 
age of  Melancholy.  Is  this  the  same  Melancholy  which  Milton 
has  called  loathed? 

Lines  31-54 

Why  call  Melancholy  a  nun?  Explain:  pensive,  demure,  and 
steadfast,  and  comment  on  the  appropriateness  of  all  the  epithets 
appUed  to  Melancholy.  Explain:  darkest  grain,  sable  stole,  cy- 
press  lawn,  decent  shoulders,  wonted  state,  musing  gait,  commerc- 
ing, rapt.  Explain  41-44.  Is  the  description  of  Melancholy 
more  elaborate  than  that  of  Mirth?  Name  the  companions 
of  Melancholy.  Can  you  pair  them  off  with  the  companions 
of  Mirth?  Which  corresponds  to  Liberty?  In  naming  these 
companions  is  Milton  trying  to  tell  us  the  conditions  neces- 
sary for  the  enjoyment  of  melancholy?  If  so,  should  we  con- 
clude that  fasting  is  necessary?  Explain  46-8;  52-4.  What 
picture  do  you  get  from  trim  gardens?    Do  you  prefer  these  lines 


398  APPENDIX 

to  those  describing  Mirth  and  her  companions?   How,  in  melody, 
do  the  two  passages  differ? 

Lines  55-72 

In  what  respect  does  1.  55  suggest  1.  116  of  U Allegro?  Ex- 
plain: Philomel,  Cynthia,  deign,  plight.  Why  is  Night's  brow 
rugged?  Explain  accustomed  oak.  Explain  1.  61.  Comment 
on  the  poetical  quality  of  1.  62.  Has  walk  unseen  a  parallel  in 
U Allegro?  What  in  U Allegro  corresponds  to  wandering  moon? 
What  picture  do  you  get  from  smooth  shaven  green?  Is  wandering 
an  appropriate  epithet  to  apply  to  the  moon?  Does  it  apply 
equally  well  to  the  sun?  to  the  clouds?  Can  you  think  of  other 
adjectives  which  poetically  apply  to  the  moon?  Is  the  fancy 
that  the  moon  is  led  astray  far-fetched?  Explain  curfew.  Why 
have  the  bell  reach  II  P.  from  across  the  water?  What  picture 
do  you  get  from  wide-watered  shore?  Why  should  curfew  have 
a  sullen  roar?  Are  75-6  onomatopoetic?  How  many  pleasures 
have  been  mentioned  thus  far? 

Lines  77-96 

Explain  77,  80,  83-4.  Explain  still  removed.  Describe  the 
room  as  it  appears  to  your  fancy.  Why  does  II  P.  mount  a  tower? 
Explain:  outwatch  the  Bear,  Hermes,  unsphere  the  spirit  of  Plato. 
Do  you  understand  90-6? 

Lines  97-120 

Are  we  to  imagine  II  P.  still  in  the  tower?  How  long  does 
he  remain  there?  L'A.  actually  goes  to  the  theatre;  does  II  P.? 
What  tragedies  are  suggested  in  97-102?  Is  the  epithet  gor- 
geous appropriate?  Explain  sceptred  pall.  What  is  the  force 
of  sweeping?  By  later  age  is  the  Elizabethan  meant?  Who  is 
the  sad  Virgin?  Musaeus?  What  is  meant  by  raising  Musaeus 
from  his  bower?  Do  105-8  refer  to  poetry  or  to  song?  What 
author  is  suggested  in  109-15?  Make  as  complete  a  hst  as  you 
can  of  the  books  mentioned  in  85-120.  What  in  U Allegro  par- 
allels this  passage? 

Lines  121-154 

Explain:  civil  suited,  Attic  boy.  In  what  respect  does  126 
resemble  73-4?     Explain  minute-drops.     How  does  this  early 


APPENDIX  399 

morning  scene  differ  from  the  one  in  U Allegro?  What  goddess 
is  referred  to  in  132?  Who  is  Sylvan?  Give  in  detail  the  picture 
presented  in  133.  Is  monumental  an  appropriate  adjective? 
Had  Milton  read  Book  I,  Canto  I,  stanzas  8-9  of  Faery  Queen? 
Why  rude  axe?  Is  135  onomatopoetic?  In  140,  no  eye  profaner 
than  whose?  Explain  honeyed  thigh.  What  consort  do  the  waters 
keep?  Is  dewy-feathered  an  appropriate  epithet?  Meaning  of 
wave  at  Ms  wings?  Is  the  music  referred  to  in  150-4  purely 
imaginary?  Explain  unseen  Genius.  Have  131-54  a  parallel  in 
L'Allegrof 

Lines  155-76 

Explain :  due  feet,  studious  cloister^ s  pale,  emhowed  roof,  massy 
proof,  storied  windows,  dight,  service  high,  lines  165-6.  Does 
Milton  mean  hterally  that  in  his  old  age  he  wishes  to  become 
a  hermit?  Does  he  mean  that  in  his  declining  years  he  would 
study  astronomy  and  botany?  Explain  173-4.  Why  have: 
11.  167-74  no  counterpart  in  U Allegro? 

General  Questions 

How  old  was  Milton  when  he  wrote  these  poems?  Where  were 
they  written?  What  kind  of  life  had  he  led  previous  to  this  time? 
Do  you  think  he  considered  his  two  hsts  of  pleasures  appropriate 
for  every  one?  If  you  were  making  similar  lists,  what  pleasures 
mentioned  by  Milton  would  you  omit,  and  what  new  ones 
would  you  add?  Was  Milton  a  typical  Puritan?  Was  he 
effeminate?  Was  the  pleasure  he  received  from  nature  due 
mainly  to  his  imagination?  to  the  fact  that  his  study  of  the 
classics  had  furnished  his  mind  with  myths  which  gave  to  natural 
objects  a  new  value?  to  the  fact  that  his  eye  was  sensitive  to  the 
beauty  of  color  and  form,  his  ear  appreciative  of  melody?  Which 
of  the  two  poems  is  the  better?  What  are  your  favorite  passages? 
What  besides  rhyme  and  meter  are  essential  to  truly  great 
poetry?    What  is  a  lyric? 

SHAKESPEARE'S  MACBETH 
Act  I 

Scene  1.  If  you  were  arranging  a  stage  for  this  scene,  how 
would  you  represent  a  desert  place?  How  would  you  have  the 
witches  enter  and  how  leave  the  stage?     Describe  their  ap- 


400  APPENDIX 

pearance  and  actions.  Did  those  who  witnessed  the  play  when 
it  was  first  given  consider  this  scene  serious  or  comic?  Does 
the  scene  accompHsh  anything,  either  in  starting  the  story  or  in 
throwing  Hght  on  any  of  the  characters?  Had  the  rest  of  the 
play  been  lost,  what  conclusion  might  have  been  drawn  in  regard 
to  the  nature  of  the  entire  drama?  Is  the  last  hne  onomato- 
poetic? 

Scene  2.  Arrange  the  stage  for  this  scene.  How  old  is  Duncan 
and  how  costumed?  What  impression  does  S.  wish  him  to  make? 
Purpose  of  scene?  Did  scene  1  give  any  idea  of  Macbeth's 
character?  Had  the  rest  of  the  play  been  lost,  should  you  have 
concluded  from  scene  2  that  Macbeth  was  a  noble  man?  Why 
not  have  the  battle  represented  on  the  stage?  Why  have  the 
account  of  the  battle  given  by  two  narrators  instead  of  one? 
Explain  lines  5,  13,  18,  19,  25-8,  37,  40,  54-5.  What  suggests 
to  Ross  (1.  49)  that  the  banners  flout  the  sky?  Does  1.  30  remind 
you  in  any  way  of  scene  1,  1.  10?  Find  examples  of  personifica- 
tion and  hyperbole.  What  do  you  find  to  admire  in  the  scene  as 
a  whole? 

Scene  3.  Would  this  scene  be  as  effective  if  it  began  at  once 
with  the  meeting  between  the  witches  and  the  generals?  How 
old  was  the  sailor's  wife?  How  should  1.  10  be  spoken?  Explain : 
like  a  rat  without  a  tail,  shipman's  card,  penthouse  lid,  though  his 
bark  cannot  be  lost.  Is  the  drum  (1.  29)  designed  to  startle  the 
audience?  What  action  accompanies  11.  32-9?  Describe  Mac- 
beth's dress  and  general  appearance.  What  is  the  dramatic  pur- 
pose of  Macbeth's  first  words.  So  foul  and  fair?  of  the  occasional 
thunder?  How  much  time  has  elapsed  since  scene  1?  Which 
of  the  two  generals  first  sees  the  witches?  Explain  in  detail  how 
Macbeth  and  Banquo  are  impressed  by  the  witches.  Do  these 
two  know  that  witches  are  in  league  with  Satan?  Had  Macbeth 
guiltily  thought  of  gaining  the  throne  even  before  the  three  hails? 
Is  the  Httle  word  Stay  (70)  of  importance  in  revealing  M.'s 
character?  Is  M.  honest  in  calling  Cawdor  prosperous?  Why 
should  he  lie  to  the  witches?  Describe  the  manner  in  which  the 
witches  vanish.  Is  M.  sincere  when  he  says  (87)  Went  it  not  so? 
Would  this  scene  be  so  effective  did  the  audience  not  know  of 
the  honors  awaiting  Macbeth?  Describe  M.'s  manner  of  receiv- 
ing his  new  title  from  Ross.    Is  he  sincere  when  he  exclaims 


APPENDIX  401 

The  (ham  of  Cawdor  lives?  What  is  the  purpose  of  asides  and 
soliloquies?  Were  they  more  necessary  in  Shakespeare's  day 
than  at  present?  Why  is  M.  (117)  so  tardy  in  thanking  Ross 
and  Angus,  and  why  (129)  does  he  thank  them  a  second  time? 
Why  (127)  does  Shakespeare  have  Banquo  draw  Ross  and 
Angus  aside?  What  suggestion  is  referred  to  in  1.  134?  Is  the 
thought  the  same  in  the  two  asides  (143,  146-7)?  To  whom  are 
11.  153-5  addressed?  If  to  Banquo,  what  is  in  Macbeth's  mind? 
Had  the  rest  of  the  play  never  been  written,  what  would  have 
been  your  opinion  of  M.'s  character?  What,  viewing  the  scene 
as  a  whole,  do  you  find  to  like?  Explain :  /anias^fca?  (53) ;  present 
grace,  nobie  having,  royal  hope  (55-6).  Try  hard  to  picture 
11.  58-9.  Explain:  imperfect  speakers  (70),  earnest  (104).  Ex- 
pand the  metaphor  in  lined  (112)  into  a  simile.  Explain  the 
metaphor  in  127-9.    Explain  11.  139-42. 

Scene  4.  What  is  a  flourish?  Whose  palace  is  at  Forres?  Is 
the  account  of  Cawdor's  execution  necessary?  What  is  the  effect 
of  11.  11-12,  coming  as  they  do  from  the  King's  lips  as  M.  enters? 
Is  M.  still  dressed  as  in  scene  3?  How  does  he  act  upon  hearing 
that  Malcolm  is  to  succeed  Duncan?  Is  M.  sincere  in  the  state- 
ment of  his  motives  for  hastening  to  Inverness?  Does  he  in  this 
scene  fully  determine  to  murder  the  King?  What  makes  the 
concluding  line  of  the  scene  so  effective?  Has  S.  thus  far  made 
Duncan  appear  lovable  that  his  murder  may  seem  the  more 
awful,  or  is  it  his  purpose  to  suggest  that  there  is  a  certain  justice 
in  M.'s  taking  the  throne  from  a  weak  old  king?  Is  a  man  ever 
guilty  of  a  crime  before  he  has  actually  committed  it  in  deed? 
What  do  you  find  to  like  in  this  scene?  Explain  11.  15-20,  22-7, 
44,  48-9. 

Scene  5.  How  old  is  Lady  Macbeth?  Is  she  tall?  slender?  frail? 
How  costumed?  When  was  M.'s  letter  written?  For  what  pur- 
pose? Is  Lady  M.  reading  it  for  the  first  time?  Does  she  read 
all  of  it  aloud?  Does  she  read  slowly?  pause  after  reading  it? 
How  much  does  she  mean  by  shall  be  what  thou  art  promised?  Was 
M.  innocent  before  he  met  the  witches?  Had  he  and  his  wife 
thought,  previous  to  the  battle,  of  killing  the  king?  Is  Lady 
M.'s  analysis  of  her  husband's  character  one  that  should  lead  us 
to  respect  him?  Is  M.  a  coward?  Does  Lady  M.  yield  to  tempta- 
tion instantly?    Did  Macbeth?    What  is  gained,  dramatically, 


402  APPENDIX 

by  having  the  messenger  arrive  before  Macbeth?  Explain 
Lady  M.'s  manner  of  saying  Thou'rt  mad  to  say  it  and  He  brings 
great  news.  Do  you  think  more,  or  less,  of  Lady  M.  after  the 
soliloquy  beginning  Coirie,  you  spirits?  Describe  the  meeting 
of  Macbeth  and  his  wife.  Explain  the  manner  in  which  they 
begin  to  talk  to  each  other.  What  earlier  lines  are  suggested  by 
Your  face,  my  thane,  is  as  a  book,  etc.?  Had  the  rest  of  the  play 
never  been  written,  would  you  have  judged  both  Macbeth  and 
Lady  M.  guilty  of  murder?  equally  guilty? 

Scene  6.  What  are  hautboys?  Has  this  short  scene  any  pur- 
pose other  than  to  inform  the  audience  that  Duncan  has  reached 
Inverness?  In  answering  the  question,  bear  in  mind  that  Duncan 
now  appears  for  the  last  time.  Explain:  temple-haunting,  loved 
mansionry,  coign  of  vantage,  We  rest  your  hermits  (20),  pur- 
■veyor  (22),  By  your  leave,  hostess  (31). 

Scene  7.  Why  is  not  the  banquet  scene  represented  on  the 
stage?  Purpose  of  M.'s  soliloquy  before  the  entrance  of  Lady  M.? 
How  many  arguments  against  the  murder  do  you  detect  in  the 
soliloquy?  Is  M.  a  thinking  man?  Is  his  hesitation  due  to 
cowardice?  What  is  the  dramatist's  purpose  in  showing  that 
M.  reahzes  the  awfulness  of  the  crime  he  contemplates?  Why 
has  M.  left  the  banquet?  Why  has  Lady  M.?  Has  Lady  M. 
any  ground  for  accusing  her  husband  of  cowardice?  of  breaking 
his  word?  When  did  M.  first  "break"  the  "enterprise"  to  his 
wife?  Which  of  Lady  M.'s  taunts  and  arguments  is  most  effec- 
tive in  moving  M.?  Is  her  scorn  assumed  or  real?  Which  is 
the  more  imaginative,  M.  or  Lady  M.?  the  quicker  in  wit?  the 
more  cunning?  Which  has  the  deeper  moral  nature?  W^hich 
is  the  braver?  Is  Lady  M.  responsible  for  the  king's  death?  Is 
the  audience  sure,  at  the  close  of  the  scene,  that  the  murder  will 
be  committed?  Do  you  respect  Lady  M.  more,  after  this  scene, 
or  less?  Explain  in  detail  11.  1-12,  17,  23,  25-8,  41-3,  44-5,  64-7, 
79,  80,  81. 

How  much  has  Shakepeare  accomphshed  in  Act  I?  Which 
scene  serves  as  an  interlude  between  two  stronger  scenes? 
Which  scene  is  most  impressive?  What  lines  do  you  hke  best? 
At  what  point  does  temptation  seize  M.?  What  incident  def- 
initely starts  him  on  his  downward  career?  At  what  point  is 
opportunity  offered  for  accomphshing  his  purpose?     At  what 


APPENDIX  403 

point  does  he  determine  upon  the  details  of  the  murder?  Can 
you  recall  any  other  play  in  which  the  action  is  so  rapid?  Give 
the  substance  of  each  scene  in  a  few  words,  employing  the 
present  tense. 

Act  II 

Scene  1.  Purpose  of  dialogue  between  Banquo  and  Fleance 
with  which  the  scene  opens?  What  opinion  have  you  formed  of 
Banquo?  What  are  the  cursed  thoughts  (1.  8)?  Banquo's  purpose 
in  referring  to  the  witches?  Is  M.  sounding  Banquo  in  U.  22-4? 
Dramatic  purpose  of  bringing  M.  face  to  face  with  an  incor- 
ruptible man,  just  before  the  murder?  Purpose  of  the  soliloquy 
beginning  with  Is  this  a  dagger?  Does  M.  begin  the  soliloquy 
immediately  on  the  departure  of  Banquo?  In  what  tone  of 
voice  and  with  what  facial  expression  are  the  words  spoken? 
Are  there  any  pauses,  or  do  the  words  flow  smoothly?  Would 
you  have  the  dagger  visible  to  the  audience?  Is  this  the  same 
M.  who  took  such  a  bloody  part  in  the  recent  battle?  Does  M. 
see  his  wife  after  the  soliloquy  and  before  the  murder?  What 
effect  upon  the  audience  has  the  striking  of  the  bell?  Any  visible 
effect  on  M.?  Describe  his  manner  of  leaving  the  stage.  Do  you 
think  more,  or  less,  of  M.  because  of  this  sohloquy?  Is  his  mind 
unsettled  at  the  time  of  the  murder?  Why  not  let  the  audience 
see  M.  in  the  act  of  murdering  the  king?  Explain  the  following 
lines:  4,  14,  17-19,  26-8,  44-5,  48,  51,  59-60,  61.  What  passage 
do  you  admire  most? 

Scene  2.  What  are  the  weather  conditions?  Purpose  of  pre- 
senting Lady  M.  alone  at  the  beginning  of  the  scene?  Has  she 
resorted  to  drink  to  keep  down  her  better  nature?  Does  an  owl 
actually  hoot?  Why  does  S.  make  her  say  Had  he  not  resembled, 
etc.?  Describe  M.'s  entrance.  How  are  the  words  My  husband 
spoken — should  they  express  affection,  surprise,  inquiry,  terror? 
Describe  M.'s  condition.  Does  Lady  M.  say  A  foolish  thought 
tauntingly?  Is  she  alarmed  at  her  husband's  condition?  In 
what  tone  does  she  say  Infirm  of  purpose?  Does  she  snatch  the 
daggers?  Are  the  lines  beginning  The  sleeping  and  the  dead 
spoken  to  M.?  Describe  Lady  M.'s  manner  of  leaving  the  stage. 
How  does  the  knocking  at  the  gate  affect  M.?  How  the  au- 
dience? Are  the  sympathies  of  the  audience  with  M.?  Are 
yours?    Is  Lady  M.'s  contempt  for  her  husband,  as  expressed  in 


404  APPENDIX 

the  sentence  beginning  My  hands,  real  or  feigned?  How  does 
the  knocking  affect  her?  Explain  how  the  two  leave  the  stage. 
Are  they  equally  guilty?    Explain  11.  3,  10-11,  37-40,  62,  54-5. 

Scene  3.  What  fancy  has  seized  the  drunken  porter,  and  what 
suggested  it?  How  does  it  happen  that  he  is  intoxicated?  What 
effect  does  the  knocking  have  upon  the  audience?  If  S.  wrote 
any  part  of  this  porter  scene,  what  sentence  do  you  attribute  to 
him?  Is  the  scene  introduced  to  break  the  suspense,  to  heighten 
the  suspense,  or  to  please  the  groundlings?  Describe  M.'s  ap- 
pearance on  entering.  Have  the  words  of  Lennox  beginning  The 
night  has  been  unruly  any  purpose  other  than  to  take  up  time  till 
Macduff  can  reach  the  king's  chamber?  Try  to  picture  the  con- 
fusion of  the  scene.  Have  we  had  any  other  like  it,  the  stage 
filled  with  people?  Describe  Lady  M.'s  appearance  on  entering, 
and  try  to  imagine  how  she  carries  herself  throughout  the  scene. 
In  the  lines  beginning  Had  I  but  died,  is  M.  acting  a  part,  or 
speaking  unguardedly?  Is  he  acting  a  part  when  he  speaks  the 
lines  beginning  Who  can  be  wise?  Is  Lady  M.  feigning  when  she 
faints?  If  so,  why  pretend  to  faint  at  this  particular  moment, 
and  why  so  quickly  recover?  Study  carefully  Banquo's  lines 
beginning  Look  to  the  lady.  What  is  the  reason  for  closing  the 
scene  with  the  dialogue  between  Malcolm  and  Donalbain?  What 
are  the  strongest  lines  in  the  scene? 

Scene  4.  Is  this  scene  necessary?  How  much  later  than  scene  3 
is  the  time?  What  difference  do  you  note  between  Macduff's 
character  and  the  character  of  Ross?  Does  Macduff  reveal  his 
mind  to  the  old  man? 

How  much  time  does  Act  II  cover?  Arrange  the  scenes  in  the 
order  of  their  effectiveness.  Which  character  presents  to  the 
actor  the  most  difficult  part?  In  what  way  is  the  rest  of  the 
story  dimly  suggested  in  this  act?  Had  the  rest  of  the  play  been 
lost,  what  should  we  have  concluded  in  regard  to  the  moral  out- 
come of  M.  and  Lady  M.?    Has  the  cUmax  been  reached? 

Act  III 

Scene  1.  Time  how  much  later  than  that  of  Act  II?  Pur- 
pose of  Banquo's  soliloquy?  Describe  minutely  the  dress  and 
facial  expression  of  the  King  and  Queen.    How  do  the  lords  and 


APPENDIX  405 

ladies  bear  themselves  towards  the  new  sovereign?  Is  the 
solemn  supper  a  coronation  banquet?  To  what  iridissoluble  tie 
does  Banquo  refer  in  1.  17?  Why  does  M.  mention  to  Banquo 
the  flight  of  the  King's  sons?  Does  M.  appear  more  crafty  than 
in  the  preceding  Act?  Explain  with  great  care  every  difficult 
line  in  M.'s  sohloquy,  and  the  purpose  of  the  soliloquy  as  a 
whole.  Is  the  proposed  murder  of  Banquo  of  a  lower  type  than 
the  murder  of  Duncan?  Is  there  any  hint  in  the  conversation 
with  the  murderers  that,  previous  to  the  battle  with  which  the 
play  begins,  M.  had  been  a  wicked  man?  Explain  lines  4,  9,  21, 
41-4,  70-1,  79-80,  90,  94,  98-100,  106,  115-17,  127,  129,  133. 

Scene  2.  Why  does  Lady  M.  send  for  her  husband?  Notice 
that  both  King  and  Queen  have  "terrible  dreams;"  which  is 
standing  the  strain  better?  To  what  does  this  (35)  refer?  Is 
line  38  a  hint?  Is  M.'s  mind  still  "as  a  book"  to  his  wife?  De- 
scribe her  facial  expression  while  11.  45-55  are  spoken.  Why  does 
not  the  King  tell  her  of  his  plan  to  murder  Banquo?  What  is  the 
purpose  of  this  scene?  Is  it  in  any  way  in  contrast  with  the 
preceding?  Point  out  the  wonderful  lines.  Explain  the  meta- 
phors in  32-5,  46-50. 

Scene  3.  Is  this  scene  necessary?  Who  is  the  third  murderer? 
At  what  time  of  day  is  the  murder  committed?  Why  has  M. 
been  so  anxious  to  get  Banquo  and  Fleance  out  of  the  way? 

Scene  4.  Arrange  the  stage.  Where  do  the  characters  enter? 
Why  does  Lady  M.  "keep  her  state"  rather  than  mingle  with  the 
guests?  Why  does  not  the  King  "keep  his  state"?  Would  you 
have  the  stage  well  filled  with  people?  Should  all  be  elaborately 
costumed?  Is  it,  at  the  outset,  a  mirthful  company?  Should 
there  be  music?  How  is  it  possible  for  the  murderer  to  talk  with 
M.  without  being  seen  and  heard  by  the  rest?  Does  Lady  M. 
see  the  murderer?  Is  the  ghost  visible  but  to  Macbeth?  To 
what  does  this  refer  in  Which  of  you  have  done  this?  Why  does 
the  ghost  nod?  Where  is  Lady  M.  when  she  says  Sit,  worthy 
friends?  Explain  Are  you  a  man?  Does  M.  seem  to  have  power 
over  the  ghost?  Is  M.'s  second  "fit"  worse  than  the  first?  Is 
the  ghost  addressed  in  whispers  or  in  loud  tones?  Why  does 
Lady  M.  dismiss  the  guests  at  the  moment  that  she  does?  De- 
scribe the  manner  of  the  guests'  departure.  After  all  are  gone,  is 
there  a  long  pause?    Why  does  not  the  Queen  rebuke  the  King? 


406  APPENDIX 

Describe  the  physical,  mental,  and  moral  state  of  the  King  and 
Queen  at  the  close  of  this,  their  first  state  banquet.  Why  does 
M.  employ  spies?  What  are  the  strange  things  that  M.  has  in 
head?  What  do  you  admire  in  Lady  M.'s  character?  Which  is 
the  more  difficult  part  to  act  in  this  scene,  M.'s  or  Lady  M.'s? 
Try  to  imagine,  and  if  you  are  courageous  put  into  blank  verse, 
a  scene  between  M.  and  Lady  M. — time,  immediately  before  the 
banquet. 

Scene  5.  Is  this  scene  necessary?  What  fault  does  Hecate  find 
with  the  witches?  with  Macbeth? 

Scene  6.  Is  this  scene  necessary?  Practice  reading;  try  to 
bring  out  effectively  the  fine  irony  in  the  speech  by  Lennox. 
Mark  the  scansion. 

Which  is  the  most  effective  of  the  first  three  Acts?  In  which 
is  the  action  most  rapid?  Had  the  rest  of  the  play  been  lost, 
what  could  be  guessed  in  regard  to  what  the  next  two  Acts  con- 
tained? Pick  out  what  seem  to  you  the  most  poetical  passages 
in  Act  III.  Summarize  each  scene,  employing  the  present 
tense. 

Act  IV 

Scene  1.  Arrange  the  stage.  Why  is  the  witches'  brew  made 
so  loathsome?  What  use  is  to  be  made  of  it?  Describe  M.'s 
appearance  and  manner  of  entering.  Had  M.  ever  before  met 
the  witches  save  by  accident?  Describe  the  manner  in  which 
the  apparitions  appear  and  disappear.  Are  they  visible  to  the 
audience?  Locate  Birnam  wood  and  Dunsinane  hill.  Is  the 
tone  of  M.'s  voice  the  same  in  the  lines  beginning  Thou  art 
too  like  the  spirit  of  Banquo  as  in  the  passage  beginning  I  conjure 
you  by  that  which  you  profess?  Explain  the  device  by  which  the 
witches  are  made  to  vanish.  Show  the  dramatic  value  of  the 
announcement  made  by  Lennox.  Why  does  M.  wish  to  kill 
Macduff's  wife  and  children?  Does  this  scene,  more  than  some 
others,  need  stage  representation  to  show  its  effectiveness? 
Explain  fines  83-6,  120-22,  144-8. 

Scene  2.  For  what  purpose  has  Ross  come  to  Macduff's  castle? 
Was  he  sent?  Is  the  conversation  between  Lady  Macduff  and 
her  son  introduced  for  relief  through  humor,  or  for  some  other 


APPENDIX  407 

purpose?  Would  the  scene  be  as  effective  without  the  messenger? 
Who  sent  him?  Why  is  not  Lady  Macduff  killed  on  the  stage? 
In  what  respects  is  tliis  murder  worse  than  the  preceding  ones? 

Scene  3.  Macduff  has  had  little  prominence  in  earlier  scenes; 
what  is  the  dramatist's  purpose  in  now  making  him  the  central 
figure?  What  is  your  final  impression  of  Malcolm?  Give  in  de- 
tail the  grounds  for  Malcolm's  mistrust  of  Macduff.  Name  the 
^'king  becoming  graces."  Purpose  of  the  lines  which  tell  of  the 
power  of  the  English  king  to  cure  disease?  Would  the  last  part  of 
this  scene,  where  Macduff  learns  of  the  death  of  his  wife  and 
children,  be  so  effective  had  we  not  read  the  preceding  scene? 
What  character  of  all  that  we  have  met  in  the  play  has  the 
strongest  motives  for  kiUing  Macbeth?  There  are  many  trouble- 
some lines  in  this  scene;  pay  particular  attention  to  the  following: 
11.  2-4,  14-17,  19-20,  22-4,  29-30,  32-4,  107-8,  110-11,  112-13, 
165-74,  192-4,  212,  228-9. 

How  does  Act  IV  compare  with  the  preceding  Acts  in  interest? 
in  poetic  excellence?  in  dramatic  skill?  Briefly  summarize  each 
scene,  employing  the  present  tense.  What  remains  to  be  done 
in  Act  V?  Do  you  expect  to  learn  of  new  atrocities  committed 
by  Macbeth?  If  the  remainder  of  the  play  is  to  picture  the 
punishment  of  wrong-doers,  do  you  think  the  penalty  should  be 
the  same  for  the  Queen  as  for  the  King? 

Act  V 

Scene  1.  Arrange  the  stage  for  this  scene.  Does  the  gentle- 
woman show  affection  for  Lady  M.?  Would  the  scene  be  as 
effective  without  the  presence  of  the  doctor  and  the  gentle- 
woman? Describe  in  close  detail  Lady  M.'s  actions  throughout 
the  scene?  By  what  means  may  one  taking  the  part  of  Lady  M. 
convey  to  the  audience  the  impression  of  sleep-walking?  Should 
Lady  M.  be  represented  as  actually  washing  her  hands?  writing 
letters?  Should  Out  damned  spot  be  spoken  explosively?  How 
long  a  time  should  the  scene  take?  What  is  passing  through 
Lady  M.'s  mind  as  she  utters  the  following:  (1)  One:  two:  why 
then,  His  time  to  do  it;  (2)  Hell  is  murky;  (3)  You  mar  all  with  this 
starting?  Does  this  scene  throw  new  light  on  her  character? 
Will  she  die  "hohly,"  or  do  you  detect  no  signs  of  repentance? 


408  APPENDIX 

Can  you  think  of  her  as  one  who  has  committed  crimes  solely 
through  love  for  her  husband?  Why  did  Shakespeare  prefer  to 
reveal  Lady  M.'s  mind  in  this  sleep-walking  scene  rather  than 
through  waking  soliloquy?  What  other  scenes  in  the  play  ap- 
proach this  in  dramatic  power? 

Scene  2.  Purpose  of  this  scene?  What  is  the  most  effective 
metaphor?  Find  a  simile  that  presents  a  vivid  picture.  To  what 
earlier  scene  are  we  carried  back  by  the  words  Bimam  and 
Dunsinane? 

Scene  3.  Purpose  of  this  scene?  Describe  Macbeth's  appear- 
ance and  his  mental  condition.  Could  the  first  twenty  lines  be 
spared?  the  seven  lines  beginning  I  have  lived  long  enough?  the 
lines  referring  to  the  Queen?  Does  M.  arouse  our  pity  as  Lady  M. 
does  in  the  sleep-walking  scene?  Has  he  absolute  faith  in  the 
witches?  Did  he  have  in  Act  I?  Is  he  mad  or  full  of  valiant  juryf 
What  was  the  final  cause  of  Lady  M.'s  death? 

Scene  4.  Why  is  this  scene  necessary?  What  is  the  effect  of  so 
many  short  scenes? 

Scene  5.  What  is  M.'s  state  of  mind  before  he  hears  of  his  wife's 
death?  Does  he  show  grief  or  indifference  at  the  news?  How 
do  you  explain  lines  17-18?  Explain  the  thought  in  Hues  19-23. 
Is  M.  a  deep  thinker?  Do  you  admire  him  for  determining  to 
die  with  harness  on  our  back? 

Scenes  6-7.  How  was  the  castle  taken?  Which  should  kill  M., 
Macduff  or  Malcolm? 

Scene  8.  Is  there  anything  of  remorse  in  1.  5?  Why  not  have 
M.  killed  on  the  stage?  Purpose  of  11.  35-53?  Would  the  ending 
have  been  more  impressive  had  M.  been  taken  captive?  if  the 
Queen  had  survived  him?  if  the  King  and  Queen  had  died  at  the 
same  time?  if  the  King  had  taken  his  own  life?  What  is  Shake- 
speare's way  of  representing  a  battle?  Why  not  call  the  play 
The  Macbethsf 


INDEX 


Addison,  287 
Alfred  the  Great,  242 
allegory,  329 
alliteration,  343,  215 
amphibrach,  335 
anapaest,  335 
Anglo-Saxon  Chronicle, 

243,  248 
Anglo-Saxon  Period, 

239-244 
antithesis,  333 
antonj^ms,  27 
apostrophe,  332 
Appendix,  319-408 
Argument,      105-124; 

specimen  brief,  356 
Arnold,  316 
Austen,  305 

Bacon,  268 

balanced  sentence,  42 

ballad,    151,    154,   249, 

256 
Beauty,  60-68 
Bede,  241,  243 
Beowulf,  241 
Bible,  Kino  James,  267 
Blackmore,  313 
Blake,  296 
blank  verse,  338 
brevity,  40 
brief,  specimen,  356 
Bronte,  313 
Browning,      Elizabeth, 

311 
Browning,  Robert,  310 
Bulwer  Lytton,  313 
Bunvan,  280 
Burice,  296 
Burney,  305 
Burns,  300 
Butler,  283 
Byron,  301 

Caedmon,  241 

Carlyle,  313 

Caxton,  260 

Caxton's  Period,  257- 
260 

cesura,  337 

character  study  in 
drama,  181;  in  fic- 
tion, 161 


Chaucer,  253 
Chaucer's        Period, 

251-256 
Clearness,  16-36 
climax,     43,     77,     159, 

180,  333 
closet  drama,  150 
coherence,  18,  20 
Coleridge,  302 
Collier's     Short     View, 

288 
comedy,  145,  150 
composition     subjects, 

346 
connotative  words,  39 
contrast,  42,  333 
couplet,  340 
Cowper,  296 
Cynewulf,  241 

dactyl,  335 

Darwin,  316 

De  Coverley  Papers, 
questions  on,  365 

Defoe,  286 

DeQuincey,  306 

Description,  83-91 

Deserted  Village,  ques- 
tions on,  389 

Dickens,  311 

dictionary,  exercises  in 
use  of,  11 

dimeter,  334 

Drama,  The  Study 
of,  169-185;  varie- 
ties of,  145,  150 

Dryden,  284 

Edge  worth,  305 
elegy,  154 
Eliot,  George,  311 
Elizabethan  Period, 

266-275 
English  Literature, 

Brief  Summary  of, 

237-316 
epic,  the,  152 
epigram,  333 
epithet,        transferred, 

331 
Essays,     The     Study 

of,    186-193;    essay 

409 


defined,     147;     sub- 
jects for  essays,  346 
exclamation,  333 
Exposition,  92-104 

faulty  English,  12 
feminine  line,  336 
Fiction,    The    Study 

OF  Prose,  157-168 
Fielding,  293 
Figures    of    Speech, 

327-333;      exercises, 

218 
Force,  37-59 
Freeman,  316 
Froude,  316 

Gay,  288 
Goldsmith,  294 
Gorboduc,  263 
Gower,  254 
Gray,  296 
Green,  316 
Grote,  316 

Hakluyt,  269 
Hailam,  316 
Hardy,  313 
harmony,  63 
heptameter,  334 
heroic  couplet,  339 
Herrick,  278 
hexameter,  334 
Hooker,  269 
Hughes,  313 
Huxley,  316 
hyperbole,  331 

iambus,  335 

idyl,  155 

II  Penseroso,  questions 

on,  397 
interludes,  264 
interrogation,  333 
irony,  332 

Johnson,  297 
Johnson,  Age  of,  290- 

298 
Johnson,  questions  on 

Macaulay's,  375 
Jonson,  274 


410 


INDEX 


Keats,  303 
Kingsley,  313 

Lady  of  the  Lake,  ques- 
tions on,  384 

U  Allegro,  questions  on, 
394 

Lamb,  306 

Langland,  252 

Layamon,  249 

Literature  Defined, 
130-140 

Literature,  Kinds 
OF,  141 

Lylv,  269 

lyric,  152 

Macaulay,  314 
Macaulay's      Johnson, 

questions  on,  375 
Macbeth,  questions  on, 

399 
MacDonald,  313 
Malony,  257 
Marlowe,  273 
Marryat,  313 
mask,  150 
mass,  18,  20 
melodrama,  146,  150 
melody,  62 
Meredith,  313 
metaphor,  328,  220 
meter,  334 
metonymy,  330 
Milton,  279 
Milton's  U  Allegro, 

questions  on,  394 
miracle  plays,  263 
monometer,  334 
moralities,  264 
More,  261 
Morley,  316 
Morris,  311 

Narration,  75-82 
New  Learning,  259 
Newman,  316 
Norman-English  Pe- 
riod, 245-250 
novel,  144 

octameter,  334 

ode,  154 

Old  English  Period 

239-244 
onomatopoeia,  343 
oration  subjects,  346 

pentameter,  334 
personification,  329 


plot  in  fiction,  157;  in 
drama,  177 

Poetry,  Varieties  of, 
150-150;  Poetry, 
The  Study  of,  194- 
233;  exercises  in  ap- 
preciation, 226 

Pope,  288 

Porter,  305 

Pre-Elizabethan  Pe- 
riod, 261-265 

pronunciation  exer- 
cises, 9 

Prose,  Varieties  of, 
144-149 

Punctuation,  Rules 
of,  319;  exercises  in, 
23 

Puritan  and  Cava- 
lier Period,  276- 
281 

Puritans,  281 

Purity,  6-15 

quatrain,  340 
Queen  Anne  Period, 
285-289 

Raleigh,  268 

Ralph  Roister  Doister, 
263 

Reade,  313 

Reading,  127-135 

Reformation,  276 

Renaissance,  276 

repetition,  41 

Restoration  Period, 
282-284 

Rhetoric,  The  Study 
OF,  3-5 

Richardson,  292 

romance,  prose,  144; 
metrical,  152;  Nor- 
man, 248;  English, 
249 

Rossetti,  311 

Royal  Society,  283 

Ruskin,  315 

Scott,  300,  305 
sentence,  the  balanced, 

42;  the  periodic,  44; 

the  loose,  44 
setting,  163 
Shakespeare,  273 
Shelley,  304 
Sheridan,  295 
Sidney,  270 


Silas  Marner,  questions 

on,  360 
simile,  327 
simplicity,  45 
Sir    Gawaine    and    the 

Green  Knight,  255 
Smollett,  293 
song,  153;  Elizabethan, 

270 
sonnet,  341,  154 
spelling  exercises,  10 
Spencer,  316 
Spenser,  271 
stanza  forms,  340 
Steele,  287 
Sterne,  293 
Stevenson,  313 
storj%  short,  144. 
Style,  69-74 
suspense,  44 
Swift,  286 
Swinburne,  311 
symmetry,  64 
synonyms,  25 

tale,  151 
Taylor,  279 
Tennyson,  309 
tetrameter,  334 
Thackeray,  311 
Thomson,  295 
topical  outline,  29 
tragedy,  145,  150 
tragi-comedy,  146,  150 
Trevelyan,  316 
trimeter,  334 
triplet,  340 
trochee,  335 
Tiollope,  313 
truncated  line,  336 
Tyndale,  262 
Tyndall,  316 


unity,  18,  20 

Versification,  334- 
346;  exercises  in,  200 

Victorian  Era,  308- 
316 

Walton,  27^ 

words,  connotative,  39; 

familiar  and  precise, 

19 
Wordsworth,  301 
Wordsworth-Scott 

Era,  299-307 
Wyatt  and  Surrey,  262 
Wyclif,  251 


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